


Moving Together.

by Dei_os



Category: Parties are For Losers - Ferry (Song Cycle)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - uhhhh it's just different ok, F/M, Found Family, Gen, I'm basing the names off of the uhhhh "my oc card" things ferry did one time, I'm not sure abt the tags they'll probably change, Teenage Rebellion, The setting is -vague gestures- america because it's the only place I've ever lived, There's no sanya/yura tag or olya/sergei tag so I'm making my own smh, lots of swearing, no beta i'll just die until it gets checked, so no mutants, teenage angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24303298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dei_os/pseuds/Dei_os
Summary: “You look ugly when you sleep.”“You look ugly when you breathe. Like a choking pig.”Yura pressed himself close to the side of the car as Anya turned around in her seat, beating his leg with a fan.“Shut the fuck up! Fuck you!”Their mom didn’t do much other than glance at Yura in the rearview mirror, and make a half-assed request to stop fighting. It seemed to appease Anya, just a little-- since she stopped hitting him in the leg, but she was still fuming in her seat."This is the worst."[In which, Yura and Anya move from the city to a small kinda-rural town and suffer.]
Relationships: Anna "Anya" Beletskaya/Dmitry | Dima, Ivan/Yana, Olya Orlova/Sergei Kazarin, Yuri "Yura" Beletskaya/Sanya Kazarina
Comments: 13
Kudos: 25





	1. Moving In.

Yura bit the inside of his cheek, a poor habit that formed when he didn’t have a cigarette to chew on instead, as he stared at the bungalow in front of him. The boxes in his arms and bag on his back suddenly felt much heavier. With a glance at his little sister, he could get the vibe that she felt the same. She was fidgeting – well, she never could sit still anyways – fingers clenching and unclenching on her backpack strap. Her eyes darted around, eyebrows furrowed as she analyzed the outside of their new home. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened. A small gurgle left her throat, but it surely couldn’t have formed words. 

Yura decided to speak first.

“This place looks like shit.”

Anya whipped around to face her brother, stomping on his foot.

“I –  sh- _ shut up _ _ – _ _!!! _ I was going to say that!” 

Yura cursed, taking a step back and nearly tripping over his own feet.

“Calm the fuck down – damn.” Yura shook his head, before heading towards the front door that was left wide open. “Just get your stuff so the moving truck can leave.”

Anya slunked away with a pout. She went and rummaged through the boxes in the back of the small moving truck (it’s not like they had much anyways) and grabbed a few boxes that she labelled as her own in big, blocky lettering. She glanced at the house in all of its glory: peeling, pale paint and creaking, termite infested wood.

What her brother said was true. The house  _ did _ look like shit. The faint scent of manure from down the road made the place  _ smell _ like shit too. Everything said that this was, in fact, the countryside. Dead grass for miles around and a probably-unexplored forest in the distance behind the house. She felt sweat drip down her neck, and groaned. It was too hot. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. 

Anya’s boxes were stacked far too high and blocked her vision, but she didn’t care much. It was quicker to get it done in one trip, anyways.

“Stupid truck ,  stupid moving ,  stupid Yura…” Anya grumbled as she shambled off the truck. She yelped as she missed a step on the rickety, metal stair extension of the truck. 

_ Thud. _

Anya stood shocked as the boxes fell out of her arms, however she herself was held still. The crinkling of a jacket was heard, and Anya looked up, confused.

“Are you okay?” 

Anya blinked. 

“Who are you?” 

The girl who held Anya by the shoulders smiled, despite the confusion set on her features. The boy behind her gave Anya a callous stare, holding the girl in front of him by the shoulders with a firm grip. Anya backed away, glancing down at the boxes.

“Ah – shit!” Anya lunged on the lawn, laying down in the dried grass and shoving herself into one of the many boxes, searching deep within the depths. 

The strangers glanced at each other, before leaning over and observing the strange girl. Anya kicked up dirt and grass as she struggled to crawl into the box. Eventually, she emerged victorious (?) as she held up a heavy snow globe.

“It’s safe!” she screamed, before falling over and letting out a long sigh of relief.

Stranger #1 stifled a laugh, her lips pressing together as she looked up at Stranger #2. Stranger #2’s face scrunched up, incredulous at the sight before him. 

“She didn’t even thank you,” he whispered. Stranger #1 shushed him as Anya flung herself upwards, pointing accusingly.

“It’s your lucky day! If this broke I would have had to fight you!” 

Anya stood up, brushing some dried grass off her pants. It got stuck to her hands instead. Stranger #2 squinted down at her, before turning to Stranger #1. 

“I’m glad it didn’t break!” She said, smiling as bright as ever. Anya faltered, before straightening up her posture and puffing out her chest.

“Right…!” She looked down at the mess of worn mementos and clothes – maybe Yura was right, she should’ve taped up the box – and let out a dejected sigh. 

She stood, taking two, three purposeful steps towards the house before stopping, looking over her shoulder at the two strangers. The shorter girl was still smiling and even waved. Anya turned back and ran into the house, screaming for her older brother. 

Stranger #1 glanced over at Stranger #2, who watched as the girl disappeared into the house. Normally by now he would’ve pushed her right along and have them leave as soon as possible, but he seemed at a loss of what to do or say.

After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke up.

“She had grass all over her back.” He turned to the shorter girl, gaze unyielding. “Who wears a hoodie in the summer?”

Stranger #1 snorted out a laugh, and the two of them continued along the desolate sidewalk.

\------------------------------

“Hun, you have grass all over your back.” Lilya wasn’t much for conversation, and Anya suddenly felt on edge when her mom pulled her aside and started brushing the dead grass off her back.

“I fell on the front yard,” Anya started, watching her mom from the dusty, smudged full-body mirror. She surveyed for any sort of response or reaction. 

There was none.

“There were two weirdos. One of them didn’t talk and the other smiled too much.” Anya’s voice rambled off, and she wasn’t even listening to her own words. Her mom didn’t even nod or hum in response as she brushed through her hair, picking out pieces of grass. “I tripped on the stairs and dropped my stuff. They almost broke Dad’s snowglobe – you know, the one you gave me from vegas that you told me reminded you of him sometimes – ”

“I don’t recall,” Lilya finally interrupted, and Anya froze. 

Her fists clenched, fingers twitching as she shook a little.

“Right…” Anya briskly left and trudged up the stairs, shoving past Yura, who hung in the entryway of the kitchen.

“Looking good, sunshine!” Yura commented over his shoulder, snickering to himself. 

Yura let out a sigh, leaning on the kitchen counter and twisting over an apple in his hands. Lilya watched as her daughter disappeared up the stairs before turning to Yura.

“You two are starting school in a month,” she said offhandedly. She grabbed a jacket off from the coat rack next to the back door. Yura hummed as she brushed the dust off of it.

“Wonderful.” He took a bite of the apple, then retched at the soft bruise he bit into. He spat out the chunk into the trashcan and sighed, throwing the rest of the apple away. “Buy some groceries, ma.”

“I was planning to.” Lilya slipped the thin jacket on and grabbed the keys off the counter. “Make sure you get all your stuff.”

“Will do.” 

Yura stared into the front yard from the kitchen, through the open front door. The horizon wobbled in the distance from the waves of heat. 

Yura bit the inside of his cheeks, and headed out.


	2. Mister Steel Gray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yura goes out to [insert gas station name here] for smokes and meets Sergei (and Tsar, but only briefly).
> 
> It's a short chapter sowwy. The next few are way longer!

Yura played with the tab of the empty box of cigarettes in his hands, growing impatient as the gas-station line refused to move an inch. With a sigh he left the line to go grab a soda and bag of chips, and returned to the line that neither grew nor shrunk– opening the bag to start eating. His eyes drilled holes in the wall just above the cashier’s head, but a blur of black in his peripheral distracted him and his eyes snapped over. Green eyes met a steel gray– and Yura almost flinched.

Almost.

“Ah,” Yura wasn’t sure what to say, so he instead stepped forward in line, supposedly intending to make room for whoever the stranger was. He smiled sheepishly, “Sorry about that.”

Mr. Steel Gray looked him once over, and stepped into line. 

“It’s no problem,” he stepped into line. “I take it you’re visiting?”

Yura felt cold, but smiled along playfully like always. He waved a hand.

“Moved in, actually.” He held out his hand. “How did you know?”

Yura was met with a firm, almost intense, handshake that was over as soon as it was started.

“Sergei Kazarin. Nice to meet you,” Sergei glanced up at the line before solidifying his eye contact with Yura, who closed his eyes to protect himself from the intense gaze. “It’s a small town, so new people tend to stick out.”

“Yura Beletskaya. ” Yura shifted as the line finally lurched forward. He took another chip out of his bag of 75% air. “I moved with my little sis and ma’, so you’ll probably see them around…”

Sergei nodded. 

“I hope you’ll be able to settle comfortably here, where are you from?”

“Ah, the city– but you probably haven’t heard of it.” Yura shrugged, taking a sip of soda. “It’s as mundane as any other city gets, nothing special.”

“Different from out here, huh?” Sergei looked outside the gas station windows. Yura’s eyes followed as he hummed out a confirmation.

It was getting dark, the plains of dirt, foliage and rock covered in a blanket of red. Yura sighed through his nose as he was called up to the till. He set down the now-empty bag of chips and half-empty bottle of soda on the counter, along with the empty cigarette carton. The redhead at the till looked at him, deadpan, and scanned the bag of chips and the soda. 

“Is this fine?” Freckles asked, holding up some knock-off brand of cigarettes Yura never heard of, and Yura nodded.

“Anything’s fine.” Yura paid in pocket change, making a note in his phone to ask him mom about jobs in the area. 

Yura stood outside the gas station, shivering at the sudden cold breeze that surely wasn’t there when he first wandered into the gas station. As the door behind him slowly closed, he heard Mister Sergei scolding Freckles for selling cigarettes even though he’s a minor. Yura snickered, near-immediately taking a cigarette out and lighting it. 

He closed the zippo, running a hand over the cooled metal top as he took a sharp inhale. He glanced around, and blew in the direction away from the only other person outside, and coughed into his elbow. Occasionally, Yura would glance at his outdoor companion, their features obscured from the large black hoodie and contrasting shadows caused by the buzzing white lights from the awning above. Yura observed, before taking another breath, feeling eyes on him every time he looked away. Yura squinted at the person when they moved, making a motion as they faced the window. 

Yura normally would feel apprehensive, normally would feel worried about being stabbed by some back alley weirdo, but he felt strangely calm. 

The jingling of the gas station door pulled him out of his mulling thoughts.

He took a step away from the door as Sergei opened it – warning Yura before he could be hit with the door.

“Sorry, Mister  Kazarin .” Yura grinned, tipping his head with a cigarette between his fingers, and Sergei let out a soft sigh and rolled his eyes, much to Yura’s amusement. 

Sergei warped an arm around the hooded stranger, moving away to walk down the dirt path towards the freeway-- opposite of Yura’s own place.

“Have a nice night!” Yura called out. 

Sergei paused, looking over his shoulder. Yura waved, and after a beat Sergei returned the wave. His companion turned to take a glance at Yura-- but before they could, they were pushed along by Sergei.

Huh. Weird. 

Yura let smoke pass from his lungs through his nose, and started his trek home.  It was past midnight by the time he got home. 

The door was locked. 


	3. Exploring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya and Yura go out for school supplies, however Anya decides to explore the nearby forest instead.

“I’m going out.” 

Anya stood in the middle of the partially-furnished kitchen. Her mom sat on a bar stool at the kitchen island, writing on a notepad as she looked through some newspapers and magazines. Yura was leaning on the kitchen counter, nonchalantly sipping on a carton of apple juice, picking at the aged chunks of grease that hardened on the stove after years of not being properly cleaned. Anya tapped her foot, then threw her arms out. 

“I’m _leaving._ I probably won’t be back _for a while_ .” Anya surveyed for a reaction, and got none. “I’ll probably be back _after dark?”_

“I’m heading out, too.” Yura stood from his spot, washing his hands briefly. “Gonna pick up stuff I need for class.”

Anya puffed up her cheeks when her mom finally looked up from her notepad, looking over at Yura.

“Watch your sister while you’re out,” she suggested, before turning back to the notepad. 

Anya felt irritation bubble at her throat, before she crossed her arms and let out a sigh. It was better than nothing. Even though Yura’s eye roll pissed her off a bit, at least he didn’t _object_ like he normally would. 

Anya waited for her brother on the front porch of the house, hiding from the seering afternoon sun. A line of ants emerged from a deep crack in the concrete and crawled onto the wooden bench that was near-collapse. She took a stick and watched as they scattered and scrambled at the disturbance. The ants crawled onto her hands and she screamed, flailing her hand until it was rid of ants. She heard a laugh behind her, and turned to see her annoying older brother.

“I hope those aren’t fire ants.” Yura spoke with that teasing voice that Anya hated more than anything, with that same, dumb smile he always wore. 

“If they are, I’m going to stick my hands down your pants and hope they bite your dick off!” Anya threw her hand out at Yura, who took a startled step back, before holding up his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay,” he pushed her hand away. “Those aren’t actually fire ants, right?” 

“Of course not. They’re just normal ants.” Anya watched as a single ant seemed to calm down as it crawled all over her sleeve, hiding within the folds and creases of the old hoodie. She flicked it off into the dead grass. “Lets just go already.”

Anya began her trek forward, heading towards the shopping center-- or at least, where she remembered seeing the shopping center on the map. Yura followed at a distance, distracted by the scenery. Anya resorted to entertaining herself with a rock that was left on the sidewalk, clubbing it around with a branch she found in a dried up ditch. The sidewalk became progressively less concrete and more rock-and-gravel, and Anya began to have her doubts about the direction they’re heading.

“This is the way to the shopping district, right?” She called, over her shoulder. 

Yura was smoking some distance away, and strolled his way up to Anya before answering.

“Yeah.” He blew the smoke into the open space above Anya’s head, but the wind blew it into her face. “This is where I went last time.”

“There’s no cars!” Anya pointed, coughing heavily into her hand and waving the smoke out of her face. “I don’t even see buildings-- it’s too far!”

“We just haven’t reached the freeway yet.” Yura started walking again, and Anya followed. 

She started using the stick as a walker, and then decided it would be funny to poke Yura in the back. He hissed, turning around and flicking cigarette ash in Anya’s direction. Anya screamed, and snubbed the fading light in the ashes with her shoe. 

“You’re an asshole, Yura.” Anya sharply stabbed Yura in the side with the stick-- and he let out a small shriek. Anya laughed, but it was short lived when her brother held her in a headlock and began ruffling her already-tangled hair.

“You’re an asshole, too.” Yura spoke roughly, masking his annoyance behind a happy tone. “Can you stand to be a little nicer to your poor, dear older brother?” 

Anya started punching him in the back, shaking her head back and forth as she tried to ease and twist her head out of her brother’s grip. Her brother only laughed, patting her on the head as he dragged her along.

“Poor older brother, my ass!” Anya strained as she reached up to pinch the back of her brother’s neck. He finally let her go, and Anya dramatically fell to the ground. “I nearly died just now because of you!”  
  


Yura laughed and shrugged, nudging her with his heel. 

“Don’t be such a baby, Anya. A headlock isn’t gonna kill you.” Anya socked her brother in the leg, and Yura took a step back, rubbing his shin. “That’s gonna leave a bruise.”

“An eye for an eye!” Anya sat up, pointing at Yura accusingly, taking her thumb and dragging it across her neck. “Next time, you’re dead!”

Yura snorted and patted Anya on the head. Anya stood up, ruffling her hair.

“Mighty intimidating coming from you, Anya.” Yura leaned on his sister, elbow on her head. Anya struggled to hold him up, groaning under his weight. “Look, you can’t even hold me up, string bean.” 

“I’m still--” Anya threw her brother, who tripped off the rocky path and sunk backwards into the yellowed field of tall grass. “--growing!”

Yura laid motionless in the field, staring up at the sky. Laying on his back made it a little more difficult for him to smoke, but watching a clump of clouds slide by was more therapeutic than nicotine at that moment. He flicked the cigarette onto the sidewalk, Anya stomping it into smithereens. 

She was unusually quiet as she jumped and flopped onto a patch next to him-- fiddling with some foxtails that hadn’t yet dried up from the summer heat. Some fuzz fell off the plant and Anya sneezed, rubbing her face. Yura chuckled, but otherwise they were both quiet. An almost awkward silence was between them-- and Anya wondered if she preferred this over their bickering, and decided this was okay.

The sound of crunching footsteps caused Yura to lift his head, watching the pathway. Anya was too busy almost falling asleep to notice, tired from spending the night unpacking and shoving boxes around.

“Mister Kazarin,” Yura smiled, moving up onto his elbows and waving. “Good afternoon.” 

Sergei stopped in his tracks at the sound of his name, turning to Yura. He smiled for a moment, before dropping it almost instantaneously. His eyes shifted to Anya, who was snoring with a wide open mouth-- shocked back to life as she inhaled some foxtail fuzz and choked, sitting up. Yura patted her back as she hacked out loud, wet coughs and wheezes. Yura snorted, laughing it off. Sergei’s frown twitched, and he moved to kneel down by Anya.

Anya continued coughing until Sergei gave Anya a firm slap to the back that caused her to jump and finally cough up the intruding fuzz. She gasped for air, eyes watering and covering her mouth as she continued to cough. Even after her breathing seemed to ease, she would occasionally let out a short, heavy, choked up cough. Yura smiled passively, ruffling Anya’s hair.

“You okay, kid? That cough sounds pretty bad.” Sergei asked, his voice held a strange gentleness that Yura almost didn’t believe could come from such a firm, militant looking guy. Anya nodded, face still buried in her knees. 

"It's fine." Yura waved a hand. "Whenever she coughs she can't stop for a minute or two."

Anya grunted in confirmation, forcing her breath to a heavy, drawn out pace.

“This one who just breathed in some fuzz is my little sister, Anya.” Yura shook Anya by the shoulder, and she reflexively punched him in the side without looking up. “Ow.”

Sergei nodded hesitantly, standing up. 

“What are you two doing out here?” Sergei asked, looking around. Yura shrugged.

“Walking to the shops. We’re supposed to pick up some supplies for school.” Yura stood, pulling Anya up once it seemed she calmed down. She brushed the grass off her hoodie, and Yura idly flicked some grass off her head. Anya didn’t speak, she simply just stared at her shoes.

“School?” Sergei seemed to think to himself, and nodded. “It starts up soon, right…” 

“Are you on a run?” Yura eyed Sergei’s attire-- a simple shirt and faded pair of P.E. uniform shorts, water bottle in hand. Sergei nodded.

“I normally run on weekends.” Sergei’s stiff expression made Anya feel more than a little awkward observing the two. Sergei glanced at her, and she felt half-nervous-half-scared.

“Thanks.” Anya said curtly, awkwardly. 

When she was younger, she would hide behind Yura. Now that she was 14, she was far too old to hide behind her brother, but she really did want to hide away under Sergei’s stern gaze. He nodded, and Yura forced her head down in a half-bow.

“Yeah, thanks for helping my sweet little sister, Mister Sergei.” Yura leaned onto Anya. “She’s a little dumb, so I always need to watch her.”

“Stop it,” Anya hissed, pushing Yura off of her, stomping up to the sidewalk, pointing down the road. “I’m going to go ahead. Bye.”

Yura watched with a lazy grin, turning to Segei.

“Little sisters, amiright?” Yura joked, shrugging his shoulders. “She’s a handful.”

Sergei squinted down at Yura, nodding slightly. 

“My sister is more… of an indoor person compared to yours.” Sergei watched as Anya stomped down the street, picking up a rock and throwing it into the sparse trees next to the road with vigor. 

“I see.” Yura trailed after Sergei as he made way onto the sidewalk, and turned towards the direction Anya went-- watching as she almost became a speck in the distance. “Well, I gotta bounce-- I hope you have a nice run.”

Yura watched as Sergei nodded and continued his run in the opposite direction, crossing the two-lane street and going down a bike path that cut through one of the many fields. Yura turned back and continued heading towards the shopping center. He could just barely see Anya in the distance.

“Maybe I should start running, too.” Yura muttered, biting the inside of his cheek.

\------------------------------------------------

Anya stared at the dirt path that split off from the sidewalk, surrounded by trees that seemed to go as far as the eye could see. She checked her phone for a moment-- scrolling through the map to see where she was-- the forest seemed to extend indefinitely and didn’t have many landmarks-- but hand a lot of paths. 

The adventurer inside her urged her to explore, while the cautious side of her told her it was a bad idea.

Too bad she never really listened to that cautious side.

Anya glanced behind her, looking for her brother. He was so far she could hardly see him, and so she decided to waltz down the path before her brother could try to stop her.

The woods were quiet, other than the ambient noises of animals skittering and crunching leaves. The trees were basking in the summer sun, shielding Anya from the searing heat, green and full of life-- however there were enough dead leaves on the ground that warned that fall was starting. The forest became thicker the further Anya wandered, and the pale dirt path wore down and faded until it mixed with the dirt, rocks, and roots of the forest, but Anya trudged further. The grass and moss served as a good enough path, anyways. 

Anya stumbled over a tree root, catching herself before she fell, hugging a tree close. With a sigh, she sat down on the tree root and picked at the tree bark.

She was out of her element, lately. Tripping and falling and feeling more wound up than usual. It’s probably because of the move-- no-- it’s _definitely_ because of the move. It’s because she’s in this unfamiliar place and the only people she _does_ know can’t-- no, _won’t_ \-- do anything to help her.

It’s not like she wants, or needs, their help anyways.

Anya stood back up and continued deeper into the forest, going wherever her feet could take her for as long as possible. It’s not anything new, running away for a few days before returning home. Anya doubted she’d spend more than a night out, anyways. Yura usually caught her wandering about after his nightly partying and dragged her ass home…

Well, that was when they lived back in the city.

Yura probably wouldn’t find her in this forest-- he probably wouldn’t _go out of his way_ to find her. 

Anya’s fists clenched as she stumbled about the forest. She rummaged through her hoodie, sticking her hand in a hole in one of the pockets, taking out a granola bar. They were 3 months old, put through the washing machine multiple times-- but they were unopened! So it’s probably ok to eat?

Anya decided to eat it after checking (granola bars have a long shelf life, anyways) to satiate her hunger for the time being. She has 3 more hidden away in the inner layer of her jacket, just in case. 

She wandered some more, frowning as the sun was steadily obscured by the trees. The forest around her was growing steadily darker-- and Anya’s pace quickened as she followed whatever was the closest light source. Maybe there would be forest rangers who could guide her the way out?

However Anya felt her doubts grow as the light faded and blended in with the surrounding darkness. Just barely seeing the outline of the woods around her, she stumbled her way around-- pushing forward. She felt her skin prickling from both her nerves and the cooling air around her. The sound of crackling bushes made her jump, tripping over another root, falling to her knees. She hissed, rubbing her scuffed hands against her pants.

Her hands were shaking as she took her phone out of her hoodie pocket, the phone warm against her shivering fingers. She held it close, the blinding light making her squint as she pulled up her barren contact list. Her eyes flickered between her mother’s contact and her brother’s-- before she decided to call Yura. It was only a little past 10:30-- he was probably out _somewhere_ close by.

The screen went dark when Anya put the phone up to her ear, and she waited-- hearing the dial tone with long, painful pauses in between. 

_Beep…_

_Beep…_

_Beep…_

_Beep…_

_“Hey, it’s Yura--”_

“Yura, thank god you picked up--” Anya couldn’t suppress the relief in her voice, voice trembling as her eyes darted around into the seemingly endless expanse of trees around her. “--I got lost in the forest and--”

“ _\--leave a message if it’s something important.”_

Anya bit her lip, hands clenching around her phone as she watched the call timer increase along with the recording beep. She sniffled, tears dropping onto her phone, blurring the screen one by one. She inhaled.

**“Yura you fucking asshole-- you _always_ do this!” **

Anya smashed her finger against the screen, taking multiple tries to end the call before hearing the blipping end call tone. She curled up, rubbing her face of tears and mumbling curses under her breath. 

The crunching of leaves alerted her, causing her to dart to her feet and search the darkness frantically. She shook her phone, the flashlight turning on. It only reached so far, unfortunately-- so Anya believed the next best thing was to climb a tree-- at least it would be less likely for anything to try and hurt her in the trees (?).

Anya squinted as the flashlight shone in her eyes when she held her phone in her mouth and scrambled up a tree. She cursed as her palms stung from being scuffed on rough bark. (Climbing up the side of a building, light poles or fences was very different from a tree, Anya observed). She held onto the branch under her tightly as she looked around. The light didn’t help much, serving to blind her more than help her, so she turned it off. 

The sky was a lighter blue than she thought, and seeing the shining moon and stars made her heart thump in her ears (or maybe it was the fear causing that). The moon seemed to illuminate the surface of the forest, and through her bleached vision, Anya could make out the shape of a wide building within walking distance, the lack of trees surrounding the area exposing the flat expanse of the roof of the building. Anya squinted, a flicker of a light going off within the building-- _people?_

Back in the city, some of the homeless people living in one of the subway maintenance tunnels would let her hang out in case it was too late for her to wander around the city alone-- but only if it was the people she knew and not some strangers. Hopefully whoever was hiding out in the building was nice enough to let her stay.

Anya hung onto the branch of the tree, dangling herself as she kicked around for footing. Once her foot gained leverage in a shallow tree hollow, and crawled down using the notches in the trunk until she safely stepped down onto dirt. She started in the direction of the building, hugging her hoodie close and turning her flashlight back on.

When she neared the building--she realized it was abandoned-- what with all the graffiti and broken windows. It was only one story, and much wider than she initially thought. Stepping over a window frame and glass-covered parts of the floor, Anya realized that the building was very-much unfurnished, not even abandoned furniture was seen, other than the occasional wooden or plastic chair. There was an overturned desk that blocked a hall (that she expertly broke when she clambered over it), and Anya guessed that this was meant to be a school, from the chairs to the desk being something she recognized from elementary school, and from the classroom of that one teacher from middle school who couldn’t bother getting individual desks.

The sound of glass crunching footsteps alerted Anya, and she quickly hid behind the broken desk pieces and turned off her flashlight. She peaked around the side of the desk that was pressed against the wall, the small crack between the wall and the desk offering her more than enough to see out of the hall. She flinched at the light of a flashlight, pressing herself lower to the floor in recoil, hissing out a curse as instinctively jolting her hand up as it landed in glass. She held her uncut hand to her mouth, trying to quiet her labored breathing as the footsteps came closer, the throbbing pain in her hand not stopping. 

“Didn’t it come from this way?” A high pitched voice spoke. “This is basically the only hall covered in glass.” 

Silence. No movements.

“What is it?” The high voice spoke again, and a foot dragging against concrete was heard.

“The desk is broken.” A softer, deeper voice was heard. Anya looked over again, squinting. 

The flashlight was pointed towards the floor as a short stranger carefully watched the floor for glass-- carefully stepping over. Anya nearly gasped as she recognized the two strangers, and jumped to her feet.

“ _It’s you! I know you!”_ Anya called. The shorter girl jumped at her sudden appearance, but seemed to regain her composure quickly, pointing her flashlight. Anya covered her face with her hand, blocking the bright light.

“Ah, it’s you!” The girl repeated, smiling as the boy next to her shuffled to her side. “I know you!”

“That’s what I just said!” Anya switched hands, pointing. “What are you doing here!?”

“That’s what we should be asking…” The girl trailed off, Dimitry tugging at her sleeve and pointing, speaking in a whisper. Her eyes widened, and Anya faltered. “...you?”

“Me?” Anya tilted her head. “What about me? What is it? What are you whispering about!?”

Anya felt her shoulders shake, and the girl pointed at Anya, frowning.

“Your… hand.”

“What about my hand--?” Anya looked at her hand, which was finally illuminated by the girl’s flashlight.

Her hand was more mawled than she initially thought-- covered in piercing pieces of glass and gushing more blood than she thought was possible, soaking her hoodie sleeve. Anya felt her head grow light as she looked up at the two strangers, the pain in her hand growing from a dull throb to a stabbing pulse. The strangers' voices became muted as Anya’s head became filled with fuzz. Panicked, jumbled thoughts crashing against each other in her head. 

And then, she passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the funky pacing? If the pacing is funky.
> 
> I added a personal headcanon that Anya has some breathing problems due to secondhand smoke. I hope I didn't emphasize it too heavily in this chapter.


	4. The Hideout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya wakes up. Dima cooks. KT is kind of patronizing.

  
  


When Anya’s eyes opened, she was distinctly aware that (1) It sounded like she was under water, and (2) She was not under water. 

It was a strange experience-- the bright lights above her made her eyes strain, and she couldn’t muster up the strength to move until her ears cleared. She pushed herself up, and looked at the half-ruined-half-clean couch. The seat was far too squishy and comfortable to be the couch in the living room of her home-- besides the fact it seemed to be a leather couch, and the one at home was like carpet and had a sheet draped over it. 

Because of this, Anya realized that she was, in fact, not in her own home. 

She whirled around, searching the room to figure out if she recognized it.

The walls were littered in graffiti. On one wall, there were remnants of poorly pasted wallpaper. On another there were sheets of clean poster paper taped to the wall with brown duct tape, some were peeling off and falling to the floor with a shudder. One wall had metal buckets of various sizes pinned to the wall, spilling with dirt and crawling with plants. There was a singular hopper window above Anya’s head, indicating that it was early in the morning from the blue skies, and that she was in a room underground. 

A single lightbulb hung from the roof, and buzzed loudly, flickering occasionally. It was poorly wired to a rickety power generator in the corner of the room, and Anya feared the sputtering noises it made. There was a wooden low table in the center of the room, a cooler and backless chairs and pillows piled underneath it. There was a cloth in the center of the table, with a small mason jar with a crack on the rim. The jar was partially filled with water, and had flowers in it. Lining the walls were various boxes, some stacked on top of one another-- some had brands on them but seemed to be filled with miscellaneous items, while others were neatly stacked away with no label.

In the far corner of the room, next to the shadowed staircase, there was an old mattress, next to it was an shelf-- one of the shelves was broken in half and left on the mattress-- that held mismatched tableware and a cup of utensils, along with cooking tools pinned to the inside of the shelf and the wall above a portable stove and a minifridge. Next to that were a few more contraptions Anya wasn’t really familiar with. 

One of the two strangers was sitting in front of the portable stove, a metal skillet on top as he fumbled with some tongs and a spatula. He mumbled quietly to himself-- not aware that Anya seemed to be awake-- occasionally looking over at a book propped up against the bookshelf. 

Anya guessed it was a cookbook, even though she couldn’t see the pictures from her spot on the couch. 

The boy opened the mini fridge, taking out some eggs and a plastic butter dish. He slabbed some butter onto the skillet and dunked the eggs onto the pan, putting the butter dish away and swapping it out for some pre-packaged bacon. He dropped the two slices that came in the package down into the pan, and jumped when the heated oil splashed. 

Anya resisted a snort, pressing her face into the throw pillow underneath her head. 

The sound of a door opening and being dropped closed resounded, footsteps creaking down the stairs. Stepping into the light, the girl stranger held up a couple plastic bags. She tossed one next to the boy, and set the other on the table.

“Has she woken up?” The girl asked the boy. Anya kept her eyes shut, feigning sleeping. A shift was heard.

“...No.” The boy answered, voice louder than usual-- probably due to the closed space. 

“Aw, that’s too bad,” The girl answered. A thump. “But she should rest up. She seems stressed.”

The boy remained silent, the sizzling of bacon and eggs resounding-- and the crinkling of a plastic bag. 

“...Can you make some toast?” 

“Sure!”

The girl’s shoes pattered against the ground, and the sound of a heavy object being dragged on the ground. Anya peaked over-- the girl sat in front of a cabinet that was laid on the ground. The boy took out some plates from the shelf and set the eggs and bacon on the dish, leaning over and setting the plate on the low table. The girl took out a bread box, taking a couple slices out of the plastic bag and putting them in the aged toaster, closing the bread box and carefully setting it away. She plugged in the toaster to the power generator, jumping back at a flicker of electricity. 

The smell of food wafted through the air, and Anya suddenly felt significantly hungrier than before. The toaster was turned on, and the boy started setting utensils on the table.

There was a long silence as the boy sat at the side of the table, separating the pile of eggs-and-bacon onto separate plates. The girl took out the 4 slices of toast out of the toaster and set them on the plates, then sat on the other side of the table, closest to the makeshift cooking area-- directly across from the boy.

They were quiet, and Anya turned her head to face the corner of the couch-- hoping they didn’t notice her movement.

The boy cleared his throat repeatedly, struggling to find the words he wanted to say. The girl sat patiently with a smile.

“I…” The boy started, quiet, “I don’t like her.”

Anya’s gut twisted.

“Hm?” The girl spoke, “You don’t?”

“Well…” The boy’s silence made Anya more tense. His voice cleared, raised “... I don’t think we should help her out.”

“And?” 

“We already have too much to deal with. Just having the two of us come here is suspicious-- we shouldn’t… we _can’t_ have another person coming here. We hardly have enough as is…” 

“And?”

“And-- and… she’s rude-- she didn’t even thank you for catching her when she fell-- she’s _not_ going to thank us for helping her out.” The boy picked up a fork, clicking it against the plate repeatedly. His voice grew hurried, agitated. “What’s the point? She’s probably just going to take advantage of our kindness.”

“And?”

“Katya, would you _stop that!?”_ The boys fist slammed against the table, and Anya felt as if the room shook.

There was a silence, and a sigh.

“Sorry.” The boy’s voice was much quieter, ashamed. 

“It’s fine.” The girl responded. She sounded unfazed-- as if she were used to this. Anya felt eyes on her back.

Anya debated if she should get up, and decided that anyone would have woken up from that outburst. She turned around slowly, sitting up. 

“Ah…” The boy stared up at her, before averting his gaze to the stairs. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“It’s fine.” Anya tried to smile, waving it off. She let her nervousness seep through her words. “Uhm…”

She stared at the plates of food, face growing red as her stomach growled at the delicious smell. The girl smiled, gesturing to the plate that was closest to the couch.

“We made some for everyone.”

“... Okay.” Anya’s voice was quiet as she slid off the couch onto a pillow seat that was set up on the floor. She hesitantly picked up a fork, and looked up at the other two.

They were already eating, and Anya decided to eat as well-- pushing down the twisting feeling in her gut. She ate some more as the girl began rambling about something she saw in town. The boy would occasionally nod and comment, but it felt as if the awkward silence dissipated. The food made Anya feel better-- and in relief, she felt some tears drip from her eyes.

“Ah?” She rubbed her face with her sleeves and sniffled.

“What’s wrong?” The girl asked, tilting her head. She held out a napkin, which Anya took and blew her nose. 

“Well. It’s just…” She crumpled the napkin in her hand, and the boy leaned back and grabbed a wastebasket, holding it out. Anya threw away the napkin, mutely nodding. “The food’s warm.”

The food was warm. Anya couldn’t remember the last time she had a warm meal with another person. Yeah, she ate the mac and cheese her brother made her once two weeks ago-- but it felt stale and burned her tongue as Yura grumbled, pissed over his hangover. It made her sick to her stomach-- and even then most of her days were spent eating cold cereal by herself at an ungodly hour in the morning. 

“The food is warm?” The girl asked. Anya nodded.

“It tastes really good.” She leaned on her hand, covering her face, mumbling, “I… ate nothing but granola bars yesterday.”

The boy and the girl looked at each other, before looking back at her. Anya took a bite of bacon, sighing, and eating the rest with vigor. The girl smiled, and the boy looked away, embarrassed. When Anya finished, she slammed her hands on the table.

“Thank you for the food!” 

“It’s no biggie!” The girl picked up Anya’s plate, stacking it on top of her own. The boy continued eating. She cleaned the plates using an outdoor faucet pinned to the wall, and a bucket of water. “What’s your name?”

When she was done, the girl carefully poured the bucket water into a floor sink.

“Ah, Anya.” Anya ran a hand through her hair, scratching her scalp. “Anya Beletskaya.”

The girl dried her hands with a towel, and held a hand out to Anya.

“It’s nice to meet you, Anya. I’m Katya.”

“Ah…” Anya shook her hand, then glanced at the boy. He held eye contact with Anya, and nodded.

“Dimitry.” He spoke, before going back to his food. Anya nodded.

“Nice to meet you both?” Anya coughed, and Katya got up, and fetched a water bottle from the fridge, handing it to Anya. “Ah, thanks.”

“No problem.” Katya sat down next to Anya, tilting her head. “Is your hand ok?”

“I completely forgot about that.” Anya checked her hand, which was wrapped up in bandages. “Uhm, did you fix my hand?”

“No, Dimitry did.” Katya pointed to Dimitry, smiling away. “He was _super_ nervous about waking you up while cleaning it up. Did you know you snore when you sleep?”

“I _do!?”_ Anya held her hands to her face, eyes wide. 

“You _do!”_ Katya giggled as Dimitry glared. 

“Thanks, uhh-- Dimitry.” Anya nodded to him, and turned back to Katya. “Thank you both.” 

Katya waved her hands.

“You’re thanking us too much.” 

“I honestly just don’t know what to say.” Anya admitted. Katya snorted.

“Then why don’t you tell us why you were walking around the forest so late?” Kayta’s eyes seemed to glow with curiosity. “You know, it’s easy to get lost if you go off the trail.”

“I was… just trying to get away from my brother.” Anya let out a sigh, leaning back onto the couch, staring at the roof, mumbling. “I don’t know why he bothered coming with me even though he was going to leave me… and do his own thing anyways...”

“You live with your brother?”

Dimitry stood and began cleaning his dishes and the equipment he used cooking. Katya faced Anya, smiling and listening attentively.

“Yeah, and our mom.” Anya lifted her head. “My brother and mom both suck. My brother’s such a loser and my mom is a whore… _was_ a whore? I don’t know.”

Dimitry cursed softly in his corner of the room, checking a cut on his finger. He apologized softly to the two girls before returning to his task.

“You don’t like them, huh…” Katya frowned, laying onto the ground. Anya stared at her quizzically. 

“I don’t have a reason to. They…” Anya bit the inside of her cheek. “They don’t care about me, so I don’t really care about them.”

Katya sat back up, and Anya found her stare uncomfortable-- her smile doing nothing to ease Anya’s apprehension.

“Are you sure that’s how you really feel?” 

“Wh--what?” Anya’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “The hell do you mean by that?”

“Well,” Katya traced shapes onto the table as she spoke, “I was just wondering. You know, if you think about it, you don't _really_ not care-- since you still care about them enough to complain about them-- maybe you’re just upset because they don’t pay attention to--”

**_Clang!_ **

The sound made Anya jump, turning towards Dimitry-- who held the pan he was using to cook to the ground. He slowly turned to Katya, glaring-- and Katya frowned back-- the air becoming tense. Anya wasn’t sure what to do or say, and simply watched the two.

Dimitry turned off the faucet and left the pan on a dish rack-- turning back to Anya and Katya. 

“Anya should leave now.” Dimitry’s gaze on Anya was cold, and Anya hunched over as if that could help her hide away from his stare. “She has a home. She should go home.”

Anya held her breath, until Katya spoke up.

“Yeah, we should probably go back to the house too!” Katya stood, clasping her hands around Anya’s-- pulling her up. “We’ll walk Anya home, won’t we Dimitry?”

Dimitry nodded begrudgingly. Standing up and slinking up the stairs.

Anya hesitated, but the guiding hand that held hers tugged her away, up the stairs. Away from the warm hideout into the cool, gentle morning-lit forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter doesn't seem too rushed!!


	5. Making Friends, Making Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meanwhile, after yura's school-supply run, he meets the bg gang

“Shit.” 

Yura let out a heavy sigh as he checked his cigarette pack. It was empty. It hasn’t even been a week and he was already running low. 

He checked his wallet-- which only had measly pocket change-- and decided that he wouldn’t have enough money to buy more. He looked down at the bag of notebooks and pencils and miscellaneous other school supplies deemed “required”, and wondered how much of it was going to be lost by the end of the school year.

Yura sighed, flicking a cigarette between his lips as he patted down his pants for his lighter. He held the zippo against the horizon as he looked over the freeway bridge. The flame mixed with pink and blues of the sky. The whistling of the cars below matched the breeze that seemed to chill Yura to his bones. He wished he had a beer to distance himself from the introspective, existential mood the sunset gave him as he leaned against the railing. 

A blaring horn startled Yura-- causing him to jump and drop his zippo down into the freeway below him.

_“Are you fucking kiddin’ me!? Get out of the damn road!”_

Yura turned towards the commotion-- the road just behind him, at a T-intersection. A trucker sitting in shotgun stuck his head out of the window, yelling at the front of the truck. The argument was incomprehensible, filled with strained voices and insults that didn’t address the problem at hand. 

Two of the people quickly left their place in front of the truck, retreating to the side of the road Yura was on, hand-in-hand. They seemed to wait, standing on the sidelines as the argument sorted itself out.

“How long do you think they’re going to stand there and scream at each other?” The girl asked, looking up at her taller companion, who shrugged.

“Knowin’ Tsar-- _hours_.” He looked over at the girl with a wide grin. “He’ll probably never get over it. Jus’ wait, in the next few months he’s still goin’ to get pissy ‘bout it.”

The girl let out a groaning sigh, pulling a cigarette out of the box in her companion's jacket pocket. She pat down her pockets for a lighter, finding none.

“Dear, do you have a lighter?” The girl turned to her companion-- correction : boyfriend. 

Her boyfriend knelt down onto one knee, reaching into his pants pocket and proudly presenting a box of matches in his palm, and delicately took out a single match to hold out. He puffed out his chest, and spoke a loud and confident “No! I don’t!” that led to his girlfriend to break out into a fit of giggles as she patted his head. 

"Thank you, dear.” The girl held out her cigarette as her boyfriend snapped the match against the side of the box, carefully lighting his girlfriend's cigarette-- hissing and dropping the match when it burnt the tips of his fingers. His girlfriend kissed the tips of his fingers with such sappy affection that Yura’s arteries clog up.

“Hey, uh…” Yura stepped closer, holding out his cigarette. “Mind if you light mine up? I dropped my lighter onto the freeway.”

The girl smiled sympathetically and nodded, pressing the tip of her cigarette against Yura’s. When it was lit, he nodded and thanked her-- his head craning up as he watched the boyfriend stand. 

“Holy shit, you’re a lot taller than I thought.” Yura scoff-laughed, rubbed the back of his neck, and took a step back. The guy grinned with pride.

“Right? It’s one of my best features.” He held a hand to his chin. His girlfriend simply smiled and nodded. “My wingspan is like-- huge.” 

“Oh, I bet it is.” Yura remarked sarcastically, flicking some cigarette ash to the side, looking over to the truck. “So what’s the deal with squeaker and screamy over there?”

“Oh, well--” The girl crossed her arms, pointing over to the two boys standing in front of the truck (no longer obscured by the front of the truck). “We were crossing the street-- but the truck was turning as we were crossing, and the driver got pissed.”

“Ah,” Yura nodded understandingly. “It’s a good thing that there’s hardly any cars out at this hour or else this would’ve caused a traffic jam… aren’t they kinda wasting their time yelling at each other though?”

“This is good, actually.” The guy squatted, attempting to scooping up a june bug into his hand. “Tsar hardly has any chance to _really_ scream, so this is good stress relief for ‘im.”

“Tsar is the one with red hair, by the way.” The girl added.

“Yeah-- he was my cashier at the gas station by the freeway.” Yura glanced over at the freeway below. “Sold me cigarettes without IDing me.” 

“Sounds like ‘im-- ah, it flew away.” 

Yura took a step back, eyeing the june bug as it flew _too_ close to his face before turning away and disappearing into the ether. Mr. Tall-And-Squats-A-Lot chuckled at Yura’s reaction. 

“Don’t like bugs?” He spoke with a teasing voice, and Yura simply laughed along and nodded.

“Only bugs I’ve seen are ants and flies.” Yura grimaced and shuddered. “And cockroaches.”

“Ah, roaches? Mr. Riley _loves_ roaches.” The guy looked up at his girlfriend. “Bunny, aren’t you takin’ his class this year?”

Yura snorted and the squishy nickname, and then cleared his throat.

“Mr. Riley?” Yura asked. “Who’s that?”

“Oh, he was my teacher last year-- ‘fore I got suspended.” The guy counted on his fingers. “For like, the 3rd-- 4th? time last year. He does environmental science.”

“I’m guessing you guys go to uhh... the school with the obnoxiously old-school style?”

"Like it was ripped straight out of a teen movie? With lockers and wood desks?" Yana nodded. "Yeah. That's the one."

“I graduated, actually.” The guy stood, shedding a fake tear. “I’m not gonna be with the boys for a whole year.” 

“Two whole years.” The girl paused. “Tsar is going to be a freshman, right? So four.” 

The guy’s jaw dropped, and he began frantically ruffling his hair as he began yelling.

“I’m not going to see my boy for _four years!?_ ” 

The guy stood, whirling around as if he had some sort of sixth sense that told him the other two boys were just behind him-- or maybe it was the sound of the truck pulling away on screeching tires-- and held the shorter of the two by the shoulders, staring at him with intense desperation.

“Tsar- buddy- you have to grow older _now_.” 

The taller of the two new boys instantly grimaced and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Tsar looked up at his friend, skeptical.

“What?” His voice was high, and loud-- raspy and hoarse from screaming, or maybe that was just what it normally was like. Puberty? “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re going to go to school for _four_ more years! I can’t wait that long to hang out!” The tallest of the five frowned, genuinely distressed. His girlfriend patted his back reassuringly. Tsar shoved the taller’s hands off his shoulders.

“Ivan, get your shit together. What the hell did you think was gonna happen?” Tsar frowned, then scratched the back of his neck as the so-called Ivan sulked. “We’re still gonna party, ya’ know? I have the weekends-- and I can hang with you if I decide to skip-- ow, fuck! Arthur!”

Arthur-- the one who came over with Tsar-- pinched the skin on the back of Tsar's neck, glaring disapprovingly.

“If you skip I’m gonna drag your ass back to school.” Arthur easily tugged Tsar into a headlock, Tsar swearing incoherently as he flailed his arms. Arthur looked over to Yura, giving him a once over and turning his head away, glaring. “So who’s this guy?”

“Oh! I just lit his cigarette… ah… we didn’t get a name.” The girl looked over at Yura, tilting her head expectantly. Yura waved a hand.

“Yura Beletsky.” He held his hand out, shaking the hands of everyone in the group-- except for Tsar who smacked his hand away while hissing like some enraged cat, too busy trying to get out of the headlock. “Nice to meetch'all."

"Ivan." Ivan grinned, ruffling Arthur's hair. "This guy is Arthur, and you've already met Tsar."

Arthur nodded in acknowledgement.

“Yana, nice to meet you.” She smiled back politely-- which contrasted from everyone else’s casual responses.

“I’m guessing you just moved in?” Arthur waved the smoke of Yana’s cigarette away from his face while Tsar squeezed his head out of the head lock, twisting and tugging.

“Yeah-- with my mom and baby sis.” Yura rolled his cigarette between two fingers. “Just came back from buying school supplies. I guess I’m gonna go to the same school as you all-- except for Ivan, that is.”

Yura chuckled as Ivan groaned, leaning on his girlfriend with an arm around her waist. She shushed him softly with a pat to the face.

“I hope you guys can help me out when I transfer in and I have no idea what to do or where to go.” Yura flicked some ash away. 

“You seem like a chill guy. I hope we can get along.” Yana snuffed out her cigarette butt against the side of her box, brushing it off and handing it to Ivan. “Oh, I know a senior who’s throwing a party on the last day of summer-- how about we hang out then? Arthur and Tsar and some other kids are _performing_.”

Yana looked over at Tsar and Arthur, speaking a teasing tone as she elbowed Tsar in the side. Tsar rolled his eyes, and flipped Yana off, and Arthur mirrored the action in unison. Yana laughed.

“We’ve been performing at these parties for _years_.” Tsar flinched his hand back as Ivan jokingly feigned biting his finger. “We’re not bad.”

“Really? I’m looking forward to it.” Yura grinned, holding up a peace sign. “As a city kid, I know my fair share of garage bands and street music.”

“You’re from the city? No wonder you got that-- heh-- ‘bad boy’ vibe.” Arthur flashed a smirk while Tsar snickered. “You look like some kids movie star that 10 year olds find hot.” 

Yura feigned shock, holding a hand over his heart as if the words actually hurt.

“ _Me?_ A _bad boy_ ? Oh, you _wound_ me.” Yura stepped up to Arthur, taking a long drag of his cigarette and blowing the smoke in his face. “What’s with the red under your eyes? Cried too much? Or is it just eyeshadow you caked on?”

Arthur coughed, waving the smoke away-- before turning to his friends.

“I don’t like this guy.” 

His deadpan, serious tone was met with bursts of laughter-- and the group began heading down the road steadily.

“Let me text you the party details.” Yana held out her hand, and Yura swiftly handed his phone over.

“C’mon Arthy, we gotta kiss and make up while the others are putting their info in my phone!” Yura held out his arms and Arthur grimaced.

“Dude, fuck off.” Arthur power walked down the road, Yura following, and Ivan let out a booming laugh as they wrestled and chased each other.

“Karma’s a bitch, _Arthy_ .” Ivan pumped his fist. “I’m gonna start using that now… _Arthy._ It rolls off the tongue.”

“Don’t!” Arthur called out-- and while he let out a pained sigh, he seemed to accept his fate.

The sound of a vibration and an obnoxious kids-pop song echoing down the empty, dark streets made Yura freeze and turn his head. Yana held out his phone-- a picture of his drooling sister passed out with skittles shoved up her nostrils was stuck on his screen. 

“Yura, it says ‘gremlin baby’. Do you wanna…?” Yana’s call trailed off, and Yura shrugged his shoulders. 

“Just ignore it. Hang up. I can call back later.” Yura called back. He bit the inside of his cheek. “It’s probably nothing. She spams my phone all the time.”

“Alright.” Yana continued putting in her contact information, along with Ivan, Arthur, and Tsar-- and added them all into a group chat. 

Yana handed back his phone when she was done, and Yura gave a short thanks. The rest of the walk back was just them chatting idly about the party, and what they expected to happen. It didn’t seem any different from a house party Yura has been to in the city, but bigger (more space, rather than more people) and in a more isolated house (rather than some crowded, thin-walled apartment or basement). 

Yura, Arthur, and Ivan splintered off from Ivan and Yana after they reached a crossroad-- a part where a cement path twisted towards an out-of-place gated community full of houses that all seemed to share the same backyard, surrounding a large lake. Yana apparently lived in that community, and Ivan followed her as a dutiful escort (and to take a dive in the lake, allegedly) despite living down the dirt path that was adjacent to the concrete.

Yura spent the rest of his walk home teasing Arthur and Tsar-- with Tsar flaring up in frustration or Arthur making a tongue-in-cheek remark, Yura felt as if he was entertained enough for the night. Yura checked the mailbox-- which held more mail than he was used to-- and watched as the rotted post of the mailbox snap and fall onto its side. He sighed, and turned to Arthur and Tsar-- who looked at him with unreadable expressions. Yura felt discomfort settle in his chest. Judgement.

“ _This_ is your place?” Tsar glanced over at the house, looking it once over-- and then shrugged. “Didn’t know the owner kicked the bucket.”

Yura chuckled, turning to the house. Mite-infested and rotting. At least they replaced some of the window screens.

“Yeah, some relative. Grand-aunt’s godfather-in-law?” Yura waved a hand. “Whoever they were, didn’t want to renovate. We’ve been cleaning up with what we have though.”

“Arthur’s friends with the local home-improvement store owner-- maybe he can get you some paint?” Tsar sounded unsure of himself, scratching at his neck. “I felt better after I painted my room-- when I got it-- it felt more… me? I guess?” 

“You’re going to need more than a paint job to fix this.” Arthur squinted at the house with a discerning eye. “You probably need to replace those roof tiles in a year. The wood beams of the pillars need to be checked for water damage. Among other things.”

“Thanks Arthy, I didn’t know you cared so much.” Yura grinned, hiding his face behind a fan of newspapers and letters. 

“I’m never going to give you a suggestion again.” Arthur deadpanned, before jerking his head to the road. “Tsar and I need to get going. We’ve been out too late.”

“C’ya, Yura.” Tsar nodded in Yura’s direction, and Yura nodded with a closed-eyed smile. 

“See ya’ at the party, guys.” 

“If we don’t meet up before then.” Arthur was fiddling with his phone. 

Yura’s eyebrows quirked, but Arthur and Tsar already began walking away, and Yura didn’t want to wake up his mom or sister by calling after them-- so he decided to turn and head inside instead.

After his last outing, he learned that 1) His mom liked to lock the front AND back door. 2) He can climb up to his window using the patio awning. 

He wanted to install a lock onto his window, just in case. 

Yura let out a sigh as he stared around his room. It was too empty, too large for just one person. Or, maybe it was a normal size for one person? He wouldn’t know. The floor was cold (he was used to this, though) and the boxes of belongings crowded against the side of the room wasn’t enough to cover the length of even one wall. 

Yura collapsed onto his bed, dropping the bag of school supplies onto the floor, feeling his phone vibrate against his thigh. He pulled it out (it was burning warm against his cold fingers), squinting at the bright screen. There were unread messages in a group chat.

  
  


* * *

**[Arthur (ー_ー )]** (12:55) 

Yura’s Address :  [expand link] 

**[Yana (￣︶￣)]** (1:01)

Thank you Arthur!!! 

**[Arthur (ー_ー )]** (1:01)

No problem.

Have fun, Yura.

**[Tsar (╬ Ò ‸ Ó)]** (1:02)

get fucked Yura. 

(1:10)

What’s going haha

Why did you need my address?

**[Yana (￣︶￣)]** (1:10)

No reason ❤️

(1:11)

That heart feels ominous lol

**[Tsar (╬ Ò ‸ Ó)]** (1:11)

yans gonna sneak into your room and raid your closet.

**[Yana (￣︶￣)]** (1:11)

Tsar!!!! You’re not supposed to tell him!!!!!!!!!! >:c

(1:11)

My closet?

Are you gonna dress me up pretty for the party?

Wait...

Is there something wrong with how I dress?

**[Yana (￣︶￣)]** (1:12)

Yura honey…

Wearing a neon orange hoodie and lime-grey-yellow-green camo patterned jeans is not a look.

I think you’d look better in darker, muted colors.

(1:12)

Got a lot of black and white in my closet.

Lots of long sleeves.

**[Yana (￣︶￣)]** (1:12)

Oooooh? 

Hopefully I can pull something nice together!

**[Tsar (╬ Ò ‸ Ó)]** (1:12)

yans really good at making good outfits out of a shitty wardrobe.

arthur’s closet was saved by her.

i can testify that.

**[Arthur (ー_ー )]** (1:12)

Your closet was the one that was saved.

**[Tsar (╬ Ò ‸ Ó)]** (1:12)

🖕.

(1:12)

Is getting your closet raided by yana some kind of rite of passage??

**[Ivan（＠￣∇￣＠)]** (1:15)

GUYS I’VE FOUND LITERALLY THE BIGGEST FUCKING BUG EVER LOOK AT THIS.

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[expand image] 

**[Tsar (╬ Ò ‸ Ó)]** (1:15)

ivan your pictures are so blurry.

all i can see is your pale ass hand and a black blob on it.

**[Yana (￣︶￣)]** (1:15)

Oh my God.

Ivan, put that down!!! 

What if it bites you???

Ivan!!!!!

Pick up right now!!!

Please!!!

* * *

Yura chuckled as he felt tiredness set on his face muscles. He swiped through his other notifications, finally landing on his voicemails.

He glanced up, the darkness of his room tempting him into sleep. His eyes grew heavier, the light of his phone forcing his eyes to strain open. He held up a sluggish hand, finger dragging against the screen.

He opened his voice mail, spamming 7 to delete. 

He shut down his phone, setting it onto his bedside table-- and rolled face down in his sheets. He felt the weight of sleep weighing on his back, and with a final sigh he sunk into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the bg gang was a lot of fun writing dialogue/interactions for!!!
> 
> I don't think there was a lot of Invigorating Plot or Character Development in this chapter, but I'm rather content with it because the bg gang shows up and I Adore the Bg Gang!!!
> 
> I actually have a key for each of their texting dialogue!
> 
> Tsar- all lowercase. period after every sentence.  
> Arthur - Proper grammar and spelling. Mostly lurks in the chat. Everyone knows he reads the messages.  
> Yana - likes emojis/emotes. exaggerated!!! Punctuation!!! (She's the one who added all the emoticons on each contact's name)  
> Yura - first letter always capitalized, otherwise all lowercase. Short scentences, sometimes with no puncuation. lols a lot.  
> Ivan - ALL CAPS A LOT
> 
> I feel like the title is too overly serious for such a silly chapter. 
> 
> Also, sorry if there's any spelling mistakes!!! I work on Moving Together most of the time at like, 1-4 in the morning. :>


	6. Grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya is grounded, and Sergei gets screen time!

Anya’s eyes bored into the fading pastel yellow and pink, flowery wallpaper that was peeling and crusty from age. She sat cross legged, scooched towards the wall as much as possible-- peeling the wallpaper off like stringed cheese was her main source of entertainment as she endured the grueling pain of being grounded.

Why the hell was she even grounded!? She’s done worse and her mom didn’t even bat an eye before. No-- it was definitely because of Yura. Her mom _always_ listened to Yura instead of her. Yura probably said something that got her grounded. Hell, it was _his_ fault she was stuck in the middle of nowhere all night.

Anya fell back, groaning loudly. Tension caused her muscles to clench, teeth grinding together, and agitation pressuring her to move, to speak, to do literally anything. Punching the air and kicking her legs, her limbs dropped-- legs resting against the wall. Her lower back began to ache from the odd position, and she threw her heels against the old wooden walls with soft, hollow thuds.

Hollow?

Anya sat up, leaning against the wall and pressing her eat against it, knocking softly. The sound reverberated, hollow and echoing. Her room had no closet, nor was there any doors in the hall that would lead to any rooms other than her own. She peeked out into the hall of her room, checking for other rooms. All that was left in the hall was the staircase leading to the 2nd floor, and the rest of the 1st floor. Anya sneaked her way down the hall, to the entrance of the house, and a quick glance into the yard told her that her mom was gone along with the car. Anya made a beeline to the back door, staring into the expanse of dead grass and dirt. Her hand clasped the handle of the rickety, old back door, slowly sliding the lock up-- 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

Anya jumped, screaming in fright as she whirled around to face her brother.

“Yura-- you scared the shit out of me!”

“Okay, and?” Yura smirked. “Were you trying to sneak out?”

“N-No!” Anya crossed her arms, fuming. “I just wanted something to eat! A snack!”

Yura glanced over into the bare kitchen, plucking an apple from the fruit bowl and dropping it in Anya’s hand.

“Here, red delicious.” Yura glanced at the sliding door, and then leaned down. Anya backed up against the door, holding the apple up the shield herself from his sickly sweet smile. “You shouldn’t get any funny ideas. You  _ are _ grounded after all.”

“ _ You’re _ the one who told mom I should be grounded! She just went along with whatever  _ you _ said!” Anya pushed her brother away, stomping down the hall. “I don’t get why you guys act like you suddenly care where I go! Just leave me alone!”

“I don't know what you're talking about, anyways!” Yura called after, following Anya. “What were you even doing yesterday? You came back at 4 in the morning.”

“None of your business!” Anya sped up to her door. “Stop following me, Yura-- It’s annoying!”

“It  _ is  _ my business because I don’t want  _ you _ to get into any trouble, idiot.” Yura flicked Anya in the forehead. Anya yelped, and rubbed her head-- glaring up at Yura. “So? What did you do that caused you to hurt your hand and come back home covered in dirt?”

“You would know if you picked up when I called you! I even left a voicemail!” 

“Oh…” Yura rubbed the back of his neck, smiling still. “I didn’t listen to it. I just deleted it.”

Anya froze, staring up at her brother with disbelief. His smile dropped slightly, confusion set on his features. Anya felt her face grow hot, a stinging pain hitting her eyes as she stormed into her room and slammed the door shut behind her. Yura stood in the hallway, staring at the door to Anya’s room, and chewed the inside of his cheeks.

“What’s her problem?”

Yura turned away and began walking down the hall, through the front entrance of the house and slamming the door closed behind him.

\------------------------------------------------

Anya stared down into the driveway of the house, sticking her head out of Yura’s bedroom door. There weren’t a lot of places to idle around in the house, so Anya concluded that : if Yura wasn’t in his room, he was not anywhere in the house-- and therefore decided to leave for the day. Anya sat on the window sill, closing the window behind her. 

Slowly, she inched her way down the patio roof, hissing as her wounded hand got caught on a stray nail. She slid, clutching the edge of the patio roof desperately-- trying not to fall off. She wheezed for breath-- her stamina running out more by the second. She attempted to push herself back onto the roof, but failed-- her arms laxing as she hung. The patio fencing was too unstable and old to even  _ attempt _ to use to crawl down, and the front yard was so dead it landing on it wasn’t any better than the concrete.

“Kid?” 

Anya strained to turn her head around as she clung to the roof, kicking her legs wildly. She recognized this guy!   
  


“Ah-- Sergei! It’s you!” Anya’s voice was far too confident for a child that was about to fall off a roof and possibly get a concussion. Sergei grimaced from his spot on the sidewalk, and made his way up the yard.

“What… what are you doing?” Sergei squinted up at the girl 

“Trying to escape!” Anya tried to find some footing against the column holding up the patio roof, but her foot slid, taking a layer of wood along with it. Okay, bad idea.

“... Do you need help?” Sergei crossed his arms. Anya shook her head.

“No, I’m fine! Just… go back to your run or whatever!”

Sergei instead held his arms out.

“Just let go and I’ll catch you.” 

Anya stared down at Sergei, before rolling her eyes and letting go. Sergei grunted as she dropped into his arms, tripping and falling back into the grass.

“I thought you said you’ll catch me!” Anya glared fiercely at the stone-faced man, who simply rolled his eyes.

“I did, but I fell.” Sergei waved a hand and stood up, looking up at the patio. “Why are you leaving your house through a window instead of a door?”

“Well, actually,” Anya brushed dead grass off her legs, and stomping on the concrete to get splinters out of the creases in the soles of her shoe. “I’m grounded.”

“Then why are you going out somewhere?” Sergei spoke with a stern voice that made Anya wonder if that’s what scolding parents are supposed to sound like. 

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m still  _ at _ my house.” Anya waved her arms around, gesturing vaguely to her house. “I’m just investigating something, is all.”

Sergei pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, cursing softly underneath his breath. He trailed after Anya, who began following the walls of her home-- leaving a clean trail against the dusty, dirt covered walls as her hand dragged against them. 

Anya was particularly fixated on the walls, feeling them, poking them, knocking on them and hearing closely. However when she got to the walls in the back of the house, she seemed to slow down, inspecting more carefully.

“What are you investigating?” Sergei asked. 

“I don’t know yet.” Anya stopped once she reached the side of the house, pressing her ear against the outer wall. Sergei began protesting, but Anya shushed him before he could really get a word in. 

Anya knocked on the wall, and then turned to Sergei.

“Promise me you won’t tell  _ anyone _ about this.  _ Especially _ my mom and brother.” Anya pointed at Sergei. “If you tell them, I’ll fight you.”

Sergei scoffed, and looked at the wall.

“What am I even supposed to keep a secret? That you snuck out of your room while you were grounded to walk the perimeter of your house?” Sergei crossed his arms, “How would you fight me? I’m twice your size and actually know how to fight.”

“Hey, I’ve fought before!” Anya stomped her foot, pointing up at Sergei accusingly. “I got suspended for fighting at school.  _ Twice _ .”

Sergei clapped, slowly, with a mock-impressed expression. Anya turned back to the wall, kicking it with her now simmering irritation. Sergei jumped back as the wall gave in under her foot, swinging inwards with a loud, wood  _ thud _ . Sergei peaked in through the hidden door, turning to Anya.

“What the hell is this?” Sergei turned to Anya, incredulous. Anya simply shrugged.

“The wall sounded too hollow on the side of my room, so I just guessed something was here.” Anya waltzed in through the door, Sergei reluctantly following.

Through the door, the passage was dark, with no windows to light the way. Sergei pulled out his keys, using a small flashlight on his keychain to light the way. Narrow, creaking wood that was as old as the rest of the house. Mostly barren, save for the occasional wooden panel and box of old storage.The floorboards ached under their footsteps, Sergei swiftly tugging Anya back before she stepped into a small chasm in the floor. He shined the light into the whole, and grimaced at the sight of mold and skittering rats. Anya grunted in disgust, picking up one of the thicker old wood panels and sliding it over the hole and stepping over it. The two continued down the rotting passage until they got to a set of stairs, even more narrow than the hallway. Anya quickly trotted up the stairs, while Sergei slowly crawled up the stairs carefully, hunching over, the roof above him too low for him to stand at full height. 

The stairway was dramatically steep, Sergei noticed. It was uncomfortable making the steps up-- as they were too tall to go two at a time, but too narrow to step one at a time. Anya seemed fine though, quickly scrambling up the stairs. The staircase plateaued only temporarily, twisting around in a u-turn to lead to more steep stairs. By the time they got to the top, Sergei was breathing heavily from exhaustion. Anya, however, was wheezing from the thick layer of dust. 

“Woah!” Anya stood in the center of the spacious room-- well, spacious because of the lack of anything in the room-- coughing into her elbow. “Secret attic!”

Anya looked around the small attic, snooping into every nook and cranny. The roof was supported by wooden beams, and the only light that was offered was a circular window on the front-- one that is noticed from the outside of the house-- and a roof window. Sergei turned off his light, as the windows were sufficient enough.

“So this is how you get to your attic… A secret hallway that you access from the outside of your house…” Sergei pinched his nose. “I get the feeling that being an oddball is genetic in your family.”

“Hey! I’m not weird!” Anya shook her head defensively, turning her attention away from a peculiarly shaped spider web.

“You left your house through a window.” 

“People do that to sneak out of their houses all the time!” Anya pointed at Sergei, accusingly. “I bet  _ your _ sister does it all the time! If she’s any  _ normal _ teenager.”

Sergei grit his teeth, turning away from Anya to look out the small circular window. 

“Don’t talk about my sister like you know her.” Sergei shot Anya a glare, and Anya tensed. “My sister  _ is  _ normal-- and  _ normal _ teenagers don’t sneak out at night.”

“Sounds to me like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me.” Anya mumbled, kicking a chipped piece of wood. “Well, it’s not like you live here, so you should get out.”

Sergei turned away from the window, quickly making his way to Anya, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her towards the staircase.

“Hey-- did you hear me? What are you doing?” Anya stumbled down the stairs, Sergei pushing her close behind. “Oi--”

Sergei dragged Anya down the hall, almost sprinting once they reached the end of the stairs. The moment the made it outside, Sergei pulled the door to the hidden passageway back into place-- so frantic that it clunked into place with an unexpectedly loud latching clack. Sergei held Anya in place. 

“What’s going on!? Why did you just drag me around like that!?” Anya ripped her arm away from Sergei-- but Sergei caught her by the shoulders. He leaned close to Anya, and Anya froze-- his stare intense,  _ imploring _ \-- and spoke in a whisper.

“It’s a secret. Right?” 

Anya hesitated, then nodded.

Sergei turned away from Anya at the sound of footsteps muffled by shifting grass. Anya turned her head, seeing her mother, along with Yura. Her mother’s expression was tired, as usual. Drooping eyes and a resting frown. Anya believed she looked disappointed, as always. Yura stood just behind his mother, smirking as alway. He waved.

“Good afternoon, Mister Kazarin.” Yura looked over at Anya, eyes narrowing. It was as if he were jeering about her misfortunes. “Whatcha doing with my sister there?”

Anya looked over the Sergei, who glanced down at her. She fumbled when he pushed her forward, towards her parent and sibling.

“I caught her sneaking out.” Sergei scratched the back of his neck with one hand, jerking a thumb over his shoulder with the other. “I was suspicious, since she was leaving through the window of her room.” 

Yura and his mother looked at each other before shrugging. Yura stepped forward, wrangling his sister and looping around the back of the house to head inside. Their mother went up to Sergei, holding out a hand.

“Thanks for catching my daughter. She’s grounded-- but she’s snuck out before.” Sergei accepted the handshake with a stern nod. “Lilya Beletskaya.”

“Sergei Kazarin.” Sergei glanced over his shoulder as the handshake was dropped. “This is… a normal occurrence?”

Lilya shrugged, pulling out a cigarette and nodding. She offered one to Sergei-- who politely declined-- before lighting her own. 

“She always does it, so I’m not really surprised.” Lilya stared at the open expanse of land just behind Sergei. Not admiring, simply staring. “I don’t stop her, since she’ll just do it anyways. She’ll get over it someday.”

“And your son?” 

“Yura?” Lilya took a long drag of her cigarette. Sergei coughed at the smell, waving it away. “He’s old enough to take care of himself.”

Sergei felt a frown tug at his lips, halfheartedly agreed, and then turned to leave. 

“I have to get back home for dinner.” Sergei nodded to Lilya, before heading towards the sidewalk. “It was nice meeting you, Ma’am.”

Lilya waved somewhat, before heading inside her home. From just outside the door-- she could hear the familiar sound of her daughter’s yelling voice and the slam of a door. Once inside, she could see Yura standing in the kitchen, scratching the back of his neck-- then heading up the stairs to his room.

Lilya simply sighed, before heading back outside to take her groceries out of the car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is odd, and kind of short?
> 
> There's not a lot of Sergei and Anya interaction!


	7. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yura gets ready for a party with bg gang 
> 
> Yura and Anya get into a little argument

Yura laid back in his bed, staring up at his phone. A flood of messages from the group chat, as per usual. His eyes glazed over the words, his eyes drooping. He felt more exhausted, being left alone with his thoughts..

* * *

**[Yana (￣︶￣)]** (8:30 PM)

Ahhh I can’t believe school’s gonna start tomorrow!

  
  


**[Tsar (╬ Ò ‸ Ó)]** (8:30 PM)

Isn’t it the day after tomorrow?

  
  


**[Arthur (ー_ー )]** (8:30 PM)

Opening ceremony.

Optional attendance.

  
  


**[Tsar (╬ Ò ‸ Ó)]** (8:30 PM)

shit you’re right.

* * *

  
  


Opening ceremony…

Yura wondered, staring up at the roof of his room. School was starting, which would mean he would have to learn the layout of the school. He’ll have to meet new people and befriend them. He’d have to explain why his homework was always late to the teachers. He’d have to befriend the teachers just so they’ll be more lenient. He’ll have to deal with his dumb sister bothering him whenever they cross paths. He’ll have to smile. Smile. Smile. 

As if he doesn’t smile all the time anyways. 

Yura lit a cigarette, sitting up in his bed. The party he was planning to go to, was it today or tomorrow? Well, the other’s would’ve told him they were coming over to ‘raid his closet’ if it was tonight. 

Yura stood from his bed, over to one of the windows, opening it. He leaned out the window, blowing smoke into the cooling evening air, and glanced down to the street below.

Was that? No…

“Arthur?” Yura’s eyebrow quirked down, a grin spreading onto his face in disbelief as he saw a familiar lanky figure standing on the gravel sidewalk in front of his house, leaning against an unfamiliar car. “No…”

“Yes!” Yana popped her head out from under the patio roofing, a wide grin on her face. Tsar's head soon followed.

“Did you know you can see everything going on inside your kitchen from the patio window?” Arthur scrambled up the patio roofing, helping Yana up. Yura took a step back, opening the other window to vent out the smoke.

“I would recommend some curtains.” Yana suggested as she expertly climbed through the window without making a sound. Tsar, however, clambered in-- dropping his guitar case in first.

“I’ll think about it.” Yura’s voice strained as the others climbed in one by one, looking around the room and taking it in.

“Well, your room sure is decorated.” Tsar commented, gesturing to the plain furniture and bare, white wallpaperless walls. Yura shrugged leaning against a window as Ivan, followed by Arthur, climbed in through the other one.

“The bedside table is the centerpiece.” 

Ivan and Arthur inspected the bedside table. Wood, polished. Simple, but functional. It’s best point is that it was sturdy. Arthur looked up.

“Looks handmade.”

“‘Cause it is.” Yura gestured to himself. “My pride and joy. Yours truly made it for woodshop.”

“You have talent.” Ivan commented, before getting the back of his head pelted with a sock bundle.

“Okay boys, time to start Fashion Week.” Yana opened the wardrobe doors, peeking in and inspecting every shirt and sweater she could find. Yura sighed, snuffing his cigarette into his ashtray. 

“Did you make the ashtray too?” Tsar asked, taking out his guitar. He practiced a few cords before getting distracted by the powdery cream colored dust coming off the ceramic ashtray when Ivan picked it up. Yura held his arms out when Yana held up a few shirts and jackets to his chest. 

“Nah. Little sister did. For my birthday. It’s pretty shitty-- right?” Yura plucked the tray from Ivan’s hands, running a thumb over the shoddily carved orange slice pattern on the frame, feeling Yana press a shirt against his back. “She didn’t bake it, so it’s all dusty.”

“It’s an ashtray, right?” Arthur leaned onto Ivan, who leaned onto Tsar-- who was leaning on his guitar. Tsar leaned back, causing the other two to follow, and continued strumming. “She probably left it unbaked since it would heat up from the cigarettes. If it was baked it could crack from the heat.”

Yura pondered it for a moment-- interrupted by Yana pushing a pile of clothes into his arms. Yura quickly set the ashtray down, before looking down at the clothes.

“Black pants?” Yura looked over at the others. “So we’re all matching now?”

“Yeah, and I got you a red sweater so you could match with Tsar.” Yana walked over to her friends, Ivan pulling away from the Leaning Pile to welcome his girlfriend into his arms. “I’ll look away if it makes you more comfortable.”

“Ah, no-- I’ll just go to the bathroom.” With that, Yura left for the bathroom. 

\-------------------

He couldn’t lie-- Yana  _ did _ have good taste in fashion. Then again, you really couldn’t go wrong with wearing black pants. 

He stood, staring at the mirror. Analyzing his appearance. Running a hand through his hair, he nodded to the mirror and then headed out of the bathroom.

“Going somewhere?” Yura jumped slightly, and then looked over to his mom-- who stood in the hall. 

He only nodded with a hum of affirmation, before turning and going down the hall back to his room.

When he opened the door, he was met with a recently familiar scene-- plus one.

“Anya, the hell are you doing in my room?” Yura closed the door behind him, narrowing his eyes.

“Ah--” Anya turned around, rushing away from his friends and to his side. “Why are these guys in your room!?”

“They’re my…” Yura looked over at the others, before turning back to Anya. “people. We’re heading to a party.”

“What? You’re already going out to parties again? We’ve hardly been here for a month!” Anya moved away from her brother, gesticulating wildly. She seemed agitated-- excited?

“A month too long.” Yura stepped further into his room, dragging Anya along with an arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Sorry guys. This is my little sis.”

“You didn’t tell us you had such a cute little sister!” Yana gushed, holding Anya’s hands in her own. “I’m Yana, it’s nice to meet you!”

“Ah… right.” Anya’s face flushed, and she turned away, staring at the floor. “I’m Anya.” 

Yura grinned at his little sister, while Tsar squinted at Anya’s face.

“Did you draw on your face in marker?” Tsar pointed to his cheeks, face set in a frown. Anya whipped her head around to face Tsar, glaring.

“No! It’s face paint.” Anya crossed her arms. “It’s supposed to look like warpaint.”

Tsar let out a snort. Ivan nudged Arthur in the ribs.

“Hey, Arthy, you match with Yura’s little sister.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes before standing up.

“Are we ready to go?”

Anya turned to her brother, eyes wide in disbelief. 

“You’re leaving already?”

“Well, you heard him.”

Anya held Yura by the elbows, looking up at him with a determined glare. 

“You can’t go yet.” Her tone was serious. She glanced over at Yura's friends.

Yura frowned, looking down at Anya before pulling her aside.

“What are you talking about?” 

Anya leaned closer to Yura, voice quieting. Yura looked over at his friends, who were idly chatting as they waited by the window. 

“I have something to tell you-- no, show you.” Anya tugged her brother by the sleeve. “Follow me.”

“What? No-- I’m not going to follow you.” Yura tugged his arm away. “You’re probably going to show my something stupid and pointless again, like you did back home.” 

“No I’m not!” Anya’s voice was sharp in pitch, and Yura’s friends quieted-- glancing over at them before awkwardly continuing their conversation. Yura sighed, leaning down to Anya’s height.

“Look, Anya-- I’m not going to follow you on one of your 'adventures' anymore, okay? It was fun when we were kids but we're not kids anymore. You should give it up and make some friends.” Yura shook his head, before standing up. Anya puffed up her cheeks, before leaving the room with a frustrated scream-- the sound of her stomping down the stairs resounding-- and the slam of a door. Yura turned to the group with a sheepish smile. “Sorry guys. Had to convince my sister that I was going to go to the party.”

“It’s fine. Looked pretty heated, though. Are you okay?” Yana patted Yura on the side of the arm. Yura shrugged. 

“Same as ever.” Yura gave Yana a thumbs-up, which seemed to satisfy her for the time being. 

Yura closed one of the windows as the others slipped through the other, climbing down one by one.  Yura left through the window as well, easily closing the window behind him and sliding his way down the patio roof onto the dead grass of the front yard. His eyes landed on the car in front of the house, and he was impressed by the mess of metal in front of him.

"That's one piece of work." 

Yura stared at the beat up wrangler. A rusted blue with a thin black frame hood. The tire cap and headlight was missing on one side. Yura flicked the windows-- plastic attached to the hood with a zipper. There was at least three dents that Yura could see at first glance. He turned to the others, smiling.

"Are you guys planning on killing me in this death trap?"

The others shook their heads.

"That's Ivan's. No one in their right mind rides with Ivan behind the wheel." Arthur glanced at Ivan. "He presses on the gas too hard out of habit."

"I see." Yura turned back to the street. "So how are we traveling, mi amigos?"

Arthur pulled keys out of his pants pocket and jingled them.

"I got a station wagon." Arthur unlocked the car, which was a little ways off, hidden behind a tree. "Not my ideal ride but it's good for getting around."

Yura followed the others to the station wagon-- traditional and plain, well taken care of for its age. Yura assumed Arthur must've restored it somehow, with modifications for convenience's sake. Yura turned to Arthur with a teasing grin.

"What? Is your ideal ride a muscle car with flame decals?"

Arthur simply turned away. The absence of a witty remark caused Yura’s shit-eating grin to widen.

"Really?" Yura wrapped an arm around Arthur's Yura stepped closer to Arthur, and Arthur turned away. “You’re kidding, right?”

Tsar stepped forward, shoving himself between Yura and Arthur to get into the front seat. Ivan and Yana were already making their way to the back seats. Yura hardly budged, his tone raising as he spoke in a teasing manner.

“That’s  _ soooo _ cool, Arthy.” Yura wrapped an arm around Arthur’s shoulders, gesturing to the car. “ _ Flame decals _ .”

“You know what--” Arthur elbowed Yura, a grimace set in his face. The sound of a window sliding down at rough, inconsistent intervals interrupted his train of thought. Tsar hung out of the now-open car window.

“C’mon, let’s go!” Tsar stuck his arms out of the window separating the two, pushing Yura back towards the back seat door and pulling Arthur closer to him. “We don’t have all night to do this shit.”

Yura rolled his eyes, grinning still as he climbed into the back seat. Arthur turned and sat in the driver’s seat.

“Promise you won’t crash the car to kill me?” Yura stuck his hand out in between Tsar and Arthur, jokingly. Arthur sat and stared at his hand, before letting out a sigh and locking his pinkie with Yura’s. Yura sat up in his seat, gasping. “Arthy is that a  _ smile _ I see?”

“In your dreams.” Arthur’s voice was flat as he started the car. Tsar turned around in his seat and pushed Yura back. 

“Buckle up kids!” Ivan’s voice was much louder inside the car, and Yura almost winced.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tsar sat down in his seat, buckling his seatbelt.

“Tsar, you sure you don’t need a booster seat?” Yura buckled his seat belt, and leaned forward until the seat belt stopped stretching. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Tsar ruffled his hair, obviously agitated. “I hear that joke every damn time we get in the car!”

Ivan and Yana laughed, Yura chuckling along. Tsar let out a long, irritated sigh.

“I’m gonna do it. I’m going to kill you guys one day.” Tsar turned to Arthur, voice dead serious. “You can quote me on that, Arthur. You can testify against me in court.”

“Alright then.” Arthur began pulling out from the dirt into the old, paved street, the sound of crunching gravel beneath the wheels. “Need me to bring you a booster seat when you sit at the defendant’s table?”

Tsar let out a hoarse groan that was drowned out by the sound of laughter.

  
  


\------------------------

  
  


Yura slammed the car door behind him as he stared up from the winding concrete path that led up to the house where the party was being hosted. The street was crowded with cars, and you could hear the sound of music blaring from inside. There was nothing within a 25-mile radius of the house, other than an electric pylon and a barn. The flashing lights intervaled between blue, purple, green, and red and made Yura’s eyes strain.

“It’s not that different from the movies.” Yura turned to the others, who were hanging around near the trunk. “Other than the lack of neighbors.”

“Yeah, it really isn’t.” Yana waved Yura over. “C’mon, we gotta help Arthur and Tsar set up some stuff.”

“I was under the impression they did that before they decided to pick us up.” Yura wandered over, getting a pile of cords dropped into his arms.

“Nah, the host didn’t want their shit to clutter up the back yard.” Ivan set a speaker onto the ground. “They were planning on showing up late anyways.”

“ _ Fashionably _ late.” Tsar corrected, slinging his guitar case over his shoulders, making his way inside ahead of everyone else. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Ivan waved a hand dismissively. “Arthur already set his stuff up before he came to pick you up, so we just have to bring Tsar’s stuff in.” 

Yana wheeled one of the speakers down onto the road, pushing it onto the sidewalk and up the concrete path leading up to the house. Yura followed suit while Ivan and Arthur locked up the car. Yana took a sharp turn right down a trampled down path of dirt within the tall, overgrown grasses of the front yard. The speaker fit perfectly in the path, which led up to a chain link fence gate. Yana looked over to Yura, jerking her head to the gate-- and Yura walked around Yana, lifting the fork latch and opening the gate for Yana to wheel the speaker in.

The backyard was brightly lit with string lights, and various circular tables covered in tacky plastic tablecloths. There were a few teens loitering around at a few tables, who turned to watch Yana wheel the speaker onto the makeshift stage with Yura following close behind. 

“I don’t really know how the cables work.” Yura squatted down to the speaker, unraveling the wires. 

“It’s just matching colors.” Yana leaned over the speaker, pointing to the outputs. “Red goes with red and white goes with white, right?”

“I hope it does.” Yura plugged the cords in, leaving the rest of the cord hanging over the top of the speaker as Yana moved to sit on it instead. 

“Tsar can fix it later, and then yell at us together.” Yana waved a hand as the two watched Ivan and Arthur entered the backyard-- Tsar on Ivan’s shoulders and Arthur trailing behind with Tsar’s guitar strapped to his back. 

“Promise?” Yura asked, sarcastic. Yana nodded with a grin.

“I swear on my boyfriend.” Yana looked up at her boyfriend, who leaned down to give her a kiss-- Tsar making a gagging noise and jumping off Tsar’s back. Arthur set the guitar case down onto the stage.

Tsar sat on the edge of the makeshift-stage (a couple of platforms made of wood) setting up his guitar. Arthur lept of the stage, making his way to the backyard patio. The sound of the glass sliding door being shut made Yura look up as he settled onto his spot on the stage. 

“He starts letting people out into the backyard once we’re done setting up.” Ivan jumped off the stage into the grass, stretching and throwing punches and kicks at the air. “I hope you’re ready to get your pants knocked off by Tsar and Arthur’s sick beats.”

“Sick beats…” Yura rolled his eyes, waving a hand. “I just can’t wait. I have such high expectations now.”

Yana stood up, heading towards the back door, Ivan and Yura following close after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo I hope ny'all like this 2 am update :>   
> Edit : I forgot to post it so now it's a 2 pm update
> 
> Also thank you for commenting!! I do read the comments (and reread them A Lot)-- and I'm sorry for not responding;;; I'm not familiar with reply etiquette-- so I get really nervous about replying, but please know I do read them and I appreciate them a lot!!!!


	8. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parties are for losers :))))
> 
> Aka thank god sanya finally shows up I love her  
> aka Yura is touch starved no you cannot tell me otherwise  
> aka sanya-yura meet-cute kind of

Yura was a little impressed by Arthur and Tsars music. They weren’t professional, by any means, but they were… charming, for lack of a better word. But perfect for the atmosphere of a house party in the middle of nowhere. Maybe they were a breath of fresh air compared to mediocre school band performances. 

Yura lingered by the sack tables inside, busying his hands with finger food so he didn’t have to think about some of the stares he was getting. He surveyed the room, watching the people, the music blaring from the speakers inside settling in his head like white noise. The house was more crowded than Yura thought it would be-- this  _ was _ supposed to be a small town, right?-- and whoever wasn’t dancing on the floor were talking on the sidelines, lounging on couches and chairs or leaning against walls. Some were playing party games, others making horrible concoctions of beer and condiments, a few disappearing into the winding halls of the upper floor.

“Ah-- crap!” Yura winced as his back was shoved against the edge of the kitchen island, his drink drenching his face and food staining his sweater. The girl who was pushed into him stumbled, catching herself on a stool, slipping as it turned.

“Sorry!” The girl-- one who was  _ definitely  _ too young to start attending house parties-- who pushed him and the other unfortunate girl briefly apologized before running off before Yura could catch her face. All he saw was a plain white shirt, jeans, and brown hair.

“Are you okay?” Yura helped the girl who was pushed over steady herself, and once she was able to stand upright and look him in the eye, she began apologizing profusely-- grabbing fistfulls of napkins and trying to pat down his shirt.

“I’m so sorry-- I didn’t mean to bump into you-- I got pushed and--” The girl started tripping over her words, and Yura simply took the napkins from her and wiped his face.

“It’s no big deal. It happens.” Yura reassured the girl, smiling. “I might be stuck smelling like beer and off brand guac and clam dip for the rest of the night, but everyone else is gonna smell the same too.”

The girl nodded hesitantly, still apologizing and tripping over her words. His eyes rested on her-- the flickering blue and red lights made Yura squint, the music suddenly blaring much louder than before. He saw the girls mouth move, but her words were muddled by the deep bass that made the floor shake. Yura leaned down, asking her to repeat-- but she backed up, and grabbed him by the arm and dragged him down the hall next to the staircase. Yura didn’t object, but he was confused. 

The girl pushed open a white wood door, slamming it behind Yura. The music was suddenly muted-- so suddenly that Yura felt his ears clog up, then pop-- and suddenly everything sounded too clear. He looked around the room-- a small bathroom that was likely made a mess by the other party goers. There was a bathtub-- occupied by two passed out individuals cuddling-- and an unfortunate sap who seemed to be clinging to the toilet, coughing and heaving. Yura picked up some stuff off the cluttered counter-- over the counter painkillers, birth contraception, empty condom box (which promptly was taken off his hands and thrown into the trash by the stranger), and solo cups and cans of beer, among other things. 

“Here.” The girl shoved a stool over with her foot, gesturing to it. “Sit.”

“Alrighty then, ma’am.” Yura kept his voice light and joking, even though the girl didn’t seem to find him that funny. He took a seat and looked up at the girl as she looked through the medicine cabinet and the drawers of the sink.

She was no longer overlaid by the tinted lights of the living room, and Yura was promptly surprised by the girl’s appearance. Her hair was neck-length, shaggy and silvery-- eyes a piercing red. Yura was at a loss for words, and the girl glared.

“What?” She threw a towel around his neck. “Do I look weird?” 

“Oh-- no-- well, yes, but--” Yura surprised when the stool seat turned and his head pushed back, a towel being placed over his forehead, and by extension his eyes. 

“Shut up.” The girl grumbled. “I get it.”

Yura lifted the dry towel, lifting his head.

“It’s not that weird.” Yura stared at the bottles lined up on the kitchen counter. “I was a little shocked at first, sure, but it’s like-- ‘whatever’-- ya’ know?”

The girl stopped, and then tugged on his sleeve.

“Give me your shirt. I’ll throw it in the washer and…” The girl seemed to be thinking very hard, her face scrunching up in thought.

“You wanna ogle at me?” Yura joked as he took off his sweater. “Fair enough. I  _ was _ staring at you.”

“Sh-Shut up.” The girl took his shirt and bundled it into a ball, face flushed red. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

Yura leaned back shrugging, and the girl left with a glance over her shoulder. He hummed-- that girl was a bit weird. First being so nervous and shy, and now she’s acting a little mean. It was kind of funny-- kind of cute. Yura squashed that thought, instead focusing on the muffled part music-- and trying to ignore the groans of his fellow bathroom buddy that wasn’t asleep. 

Yura glanced over at his bathroom buddy, who promptly passed out against the bathtub edge. Yura leaned over and closed the toilet lid, flushing it, and then settled back onto the stool. It was kind of comfortable, the cushion was nice, and he leaned his head back against the counter, chuckling at the sound of snoring.

“I’m back.” The girl returned, holding a large plastic bowl and a solo cup. She set the bowl down inside the sink. “Uh. I’m gonna wash your hair so…”

She gestured, and Yura scooted his chair over, leaning his head back. It kind of hurt because of the edge of the counter top, but it was okay. The girl filled the solo cup with water and dunked it on his hair-- it was cold, and Yura didn’t do much but stare at the white, asbestos covered roof. There weren't any words exchanged, which normally would make Yura feel more awkward than anything, but for some reason it was comforting. The muffled tunes gradually became white noise, and over time he relaxed-- slacking in his seat and his breathing slowing. The feel of hands running through his hair and messaging his scalp was much more comforting than he imagined. The slight scratch of nails didn’t hurt, and Yura closed his eyes when the girl set a towel on his forehead. The sloshing of water and a running faucet, and a slow drip made Yura sleepy. The weight of exhaustion settling on his shoulders-- and maybe it was okay to just rest for a couple minutes. Just maybe it was okay to stop smiling for a couple minutes--

“Hey.” The girl shook Yura by the shoulder, and his eyes snapped open-- and he rushed to sit up. “Woah-- sorry.”   
  
Yura stared up at the girl with wide eyes, and then shook his head. The girl jumped back, shielding herself from the water flying from his head.

“Ah, sorry.” Yura took the towel around his shoulders, and ruffled his hair with it. “I didn’t realize my hair was still wet.”

“It’s not a big deal.” The girl crossed her arms, fidgeting. “Uhm… so your sweater is going to take a while-- so I got a shirt for you.” 

She held out a neon yellow shirt that was obviously an attempt at a DIY-spraypaint-graphic-print project. He took the shirt with a nod, smiling.

“Thanks for washing my hair.” Yura fiddled with a piece of hair that landed on his face, twisting it. 

“Well-- I was the one that kinda of spilled your drink, it’s the least I could do.” 

“What’s your name?” Yura slipped the shirt on, and stood, leaving the towel around his shoulders. 

“Ah, Sanya Ka-- Sanya.” Sanya seemed to close in on herself. “Just Sanya.” 

“Okay, Just Sanya.” Yura grinned, holding out his hand. “Want to go party?”

Sanya stared at his hand-- then looked up at Yura with a bright grin-- smacking her hand down on his and holding tight.

“Yeah!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to give a special thanks to the salon ladies that made me projecting my Hair Washing experience from a haircut place onto Yura possible.  
> Seriously getting your hair washed at the salon is so, so, so nice.
> 
> also please give me feedback if you'd like!!! I don't know if my interpretation of Sanya is accurate or that well written shdklsfkdl
> 
> Also I imagine Tsar and Arthur with a beachboy by mccafferty sound...


	9. The Party (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya's side of the party.
> 
> Dmitry and KT call the cops :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter! (Not that I really... scheduled a chapter in this first place...) 
> 
> This took me A While to write, and even after reading through it 200 times I'm still not... completely satisfied with it since I know my writing can use some work, especially with action scenes, but regardless I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> I feel like this chapter really... demonstrates that I'm not from a super rural area because of the whole calling-the-cops part. 
> 
> I also need to get into the habit of writing Dmitry's name correctly, since naturally I just write Dimitry instead.

Anya stood in the corner of the entryway, sipping on her cup of juice attentively. She kept an eye on Yura, hoping he couldn’t see her sinking into the cushions of a well-worn leather couch. The party goers surrounding the coffee table were nice to her and even offered to let her join their board game (which she politely declined. She needed to stay vigilant!) and otherwise didn’t mind her squatting behind couches and chairs and squeezing herself between a few of them to hide. 

Anya stared at the table as the participants closed their eyes, each one opening their eyes and doing something with the cards laid face down in front of them, before going back to closing their eyes. She listened as the game participants opened their eyes and then began debating on who killed the “victim” (who promptly laid on the floor, playing dead, as the other participants played detective, poking, trying to get the victim to laugh), head shooting up at the sound of a shout. 

Her eyes immediately went to Yura-- who had been lingering by the counter of food for the better half of the evening. Thankfully, he was preoccupied with getting a face full of beer and dollar store food dip-- and Anya’s eyes caught a familiar blur who whizzed past the group Anya decided to stick with, jumping over the “dead body” and lunging out of the house from through the front door. Anya stood abruptly, almost startling those around her, looping around the coffee table. She was pushed back by a couple of college students, falling back into the arms of one of the Nice Party People, who sprinted out of the house, screaming at the blur to come back. Anya steadied herself, running out the door onto the pathway leading to the road.

“What the…” Anya watched as the large, looming dark silhouettes sprinted down the front pathway, splitting up on the road. Anya turned around, surprised to see a familiar face. “Dimitry?” 

“Anya?” Dimitry’s gaze snapped down at Anya, and he looked just as surprised as she felt-- despite his face normally being very hard to read. “What are you doing here?”   
  


“I could ask you the same thing!” Anya was pushed to the side by Dimitri as he hurried down the trail, Anya following closely. “Hey-- what’s going on? You asked me a question and you’re just going to ignore me?”

Once they reached the road, Dimitry’s head whirled back and forth. He scratched his head-- obviously agitated, and pressed for time.

“Dimitry, what the fuck is going on!?” Anya grabbed Dimitry’s shirt sleeve-- it was strange to see him with short sleeves-- and he snatched his arm away, glaring down at Anya.

“None of your business.” Dimitry glanced over his shoulder, fists clenched. “I need to find Katya.”

Anya frowned, looking over her shoulder into the night, fidgeting.

“I’ll help you.” Anya decided, turning to face Dimitry, who looked both shocked and exasperated-- before nodding.

“Head back here if you give up.” Dimitry started heading to the right.

“Right back ‘atcha.”  


Anya ran down the opposite way-- and thankfully the road was clear, and the night sky was clear enough to provide at least a little bit of light. There was nothing surrounding the roads aside from large planes of dirt and tall grass, making spotting any sort of strange, tall, drunk figure easy as pie. 

Maybe too easy-- as Anya’s eyes snapped towards a shadow down the road. She rubbed her eyes, squinting. Maybe it was just an animal? 

Anya began stomping down the road to hype herself up-- she wasn’t scared of a road that led to god-knows-where in the middle of nowhere where no one would hear if she got attacked, or worse--  _ eaten _ . And she  _ definitely  _ was not scared of some random, wild animal. She got into a spat with  _ raccoons  _ back home-- smart little fuckers-- she can brave  _ anything _ .

“You can do this Anya. Just find Katya, and we’ll all be fine and dandy.” Anya glanced back, seeing the house was just a speck in the distance. Oh god. She was really far. Anya shook her head-- No! It was okay! She is  _ not _ scared. Even though those two college students were huge and  _ definitely  _ ripped to hell and back, she wasn’t scared! And she never would be!

_ Snap. _

Anya whirled around at the sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs. Anya stared at the tall, slowly swaying tall grass. It led into a void-- god knows what’s in there. Anya took a step closer, listening closely-- hearing rustling and distant swears, voice too deep to be Katya’s. 

Anya scream’s was cut short by a hand covering her mouth-- dragged by the arm into the tall grass. Anya insisted on speaking, though muffled, until she heard a soft shush. She looked up, and saw Katya, holding a finger over her lips. Anya sat up, Katya letting go of the older girl’s face.

“Katya!?” Anya’s whisper was harsh. “You scared the shit out of me!”

Katya held pinched fingers over her mouth, zipping up her mouth, and throwing away the “tab”. Anya nodded with a roll of her eyes as they knelt low in the grass and listened closely for the stumblings of a drunkard. They held their breaths, counting seconds and watching for the blurred shadow. The two peaked through the grass and the college student stumbled into the street and wandered off further down the road, mumbling to himself. Anya let out a long sigh of relief, leaning back into Katya’s arms.

“God, I thought I was going to  _ die _ .” Anya felt tears prick her eyes, rubbing them harshly. Katya chuckled, patting Anya’s shoulders. 

“ _ I _ was the one being hunted down.” Katya stood up, holding out her hand to Anya. Anya didn’t take notice, shooting up to her feet.

“Yeah-- by the way--  _ what the fuck _ ?” Anya waved her hands dramatically, turning her head to look behind her and back to Katya-- her hair exaggerating the motion. “Why were you being chased by some drunk college students!?”

“For being a tattle-tale.” Katya spoke in a joking manner, but Anya felt a prickle on her neck that was telling her that the younger girl was far more serious than she was letting on-- but she dismissed the notion, quickly leaving the field and wandering into the street. Anya followed.

“Dimitry told me to go back if I gave up on finding you…” Anya frowned, crossing her arms and fuming. “Who said I was going to give up? Dimitry is so mean.”

Katya laughed, patting down her pockets. She held a small black slab in her hand, it’s screen lighting up her face. Anya squinted, looking over Katya’s shoulder. A dark blue screen with a few cute red and blue firework graphics of varying sizes, and a couple of silhouettes of buildings. A white vertical line blinked at the bottom of the screen, and Katya rotated her phone, sliding the screen up and began typing away on a small keyboard that slid out from underneath.

“I’m gonna ask Dimitry to go back to the party.” Katya turned to Anya with a smile. Anya swiped her phone before she could click ‘Send’. 

“What-- you can’t go back there!” Anya held the phone to her chest. “Those guys and their buddies are probably back there!”

“Well, there isn’t anywhere else to go?” Katya gestured out to the unlit street, a dark, open expanse surrounding them for miles. Anya grumbled, crossing her arms, her eyebrows furrowing in thought.

“Hmmm…” Anya snapped her fingers, pointing to Katya. “Ah! The barn behind the house! They just use it as a tool shed!”

Katya was confused, but smiled regardless as Anya gave her back her phone.

“Sure…” Katya corrected her text, glancing up at Anya. “How do you know that?”

“I hid in there while my stupid-idiot brother was busy in the backyard with his friends.”

“I see.” Katya nodded, before they started walking back. 

The walk was long and silent-- both girls staying vigilant, eyes open for any college students potentially trying to hunt them down. Once the house was within visible distance, they began  walking through the tall, unkempt grass surrounding the house. The barn was quite far from the house, but Katya and Anya treaded carefully regardless.

“Ah, Dimitry!” Katya ran up to Dimitry who was staring at the night sky from through the rotting roof. He would’ve blended in with the shed if it wasn’t for the moon outlining his figure.

Dimitry’s head snapped to Katya, and he quickly held a finger to his lips and harshly whispered.

“Katya-- shh!” 

Despite his scolding tone, he checked Katya’s face and arms for injuries-- and after making sure there were none, he let out a huff. Anya leaned on Katya, a smug smile sprawled on her face.

“ _ See? _ I  _ told _ you I’d help.” Anya boasted, and through the moonlit darkness Anya could see Dimitry’s grimace, and the roll of his eyes. She stuck her tongue out at him teasingly, blowing raspberries. 

“Right. Thanks.” Dimitry pushed himself between Anya and Katya, putting a hand on Katya’s shoulder.

_ Snap _ .

The kids whirled around at the sound of snapping twigs, rolling gravel-- wincing as they were hit with blinding lights. Dimitry lifted his arms to shield his eyes, Katya turning away and rubbing her eyes in an attempt to get rid of the afterimages-- while Anya squinted through the lights, trying to make out the obscured silhouettes behind the lights. The sound of a motor’s piercing scream resounded.

“Is-- is that-- a- a  _ car!? _ ” Anya backed up-- grabbing Dimitry and Katya by the sleeves to drag them back. 

The three crumpled to the ground as a blaring horn sounded, their heads  _ rattling _ as the sound echoed in their heads. There were slurred shouts, drowned out by the repeated screams of the car horns. Dimitry was the first to sprint away, dragging Katya with him. Anya caught Dimitry’s blurred figure and scrambling after him towards the back of the barn, away from the lights-- chasing their shadows that starkly contrasted with the light-bleached wood walls. 

Dimitry let go of Katya’s hand to feel around the walls, swinging his foot at the rotting wooden boards-- kicking in a hole that they were just  _ barely _ wide enough to squeeze through-- kneeling down and shimmying through. One shoulder through, he turned back to Katya and Anya, holding a hand out and glaring through the bright lights. 

“Katya-- Anya! Through here!” Dimitry’s voice strained as he tried to yell over the blaring alarms.

A scream pierced their ears-- Katya’s cry was sharp as she was dragged away from her companions. Dimitry’s eyes widened, Anya’s fear and panic clouding her brain as she struggled between fight or flight. Katya struggled, trying her best to resist, digging her heels into the dirt flooring below to stall her assailant-- but to no avail. 

“Stop it! Let her go!” Dimitry struggled out of the wall, tripping over his feet as he desperately reached for his dear friend.

Anya’s feet started moving before she could think-- sprinting towards Katya. She curled up, ramming herself into the assailants side-- catching him off guard, and he released Katya. Anya immediately shielded Katya, the two girls hugging each other, Dimitry sliding in between the two and the drunken college students as a shield-- even if it was futile. The three braced themselves for retaliation-- squeezing their eyes tight-- blood thumping in their ears as adrenaline made their hearts race---

But no retaliation came.

Dimitry was the first to open his eyes-- hesitantly squinting through the light. The sound of unintelligible shouts and grunts resounded-- Dimitry shocked still as the college student was dragged back by a guy much taller than him. Anya stood first, helping Katya stand steady as the three witnessed a gruesome scene unfold. Dimtry and Katya looked away-- and Anya smiled nervously as a familiar face came into view, a wide smile on his bloodied and bruised face.

“Uh...Ivan, right?” She waved a hand. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Ivan let out a booming laugh as he cracked his knuckles. 

“You’re the gremlin, right?” Ivan loomed over the three kids, flashing reds and blues lit up in the distance behind him. His eye was bruised and blood dribbled from his nose, and Ivan smiled, knelt down, and held out his hand. “Are you three okay?”

The three wordlessly nodded, and Ivan nodded as Anya took his hand. 

“That’s great. Let’s get outta here.” Ivan ruffled Anya’s hair before brushing some strands away from her face. “Your brother is waiting for you.”

Anya groaned, slouching down and her feet dragged behind her as she followed Ivan out of the barn. Katya followed Anya’s leading hand that remained in hers-- Katya using her free hand to grab Dmitry’s and have him follow as well. The train of kids followed Ivan through the tall grass, past the college student’s cars and some local police cruisers, to the front of the house, where Yura stood waiting, leaning against Arthur’s car with a smile on his face. 

Anya felt herself freeze as she and her brother made eye contact, Katya and Dimitry bumping into her after and sending her a jolt forward. Ivan tugged her along with a reassuring squeeze to the hand, and the three followed him up to the car.

There was an awkward silence as Anya stood in front of her brother, shoulders tense and she glared up at him. Yura’s arms were crossed, his gaze sharp and menacing despite his smile. Katya looked between them, and then up at Dmitry, who instead decided to stare up at the house and watch people get escorted down the path to the police cars.

Anya opened her mouth to speak, but Yura quickly interrupted her before she could get a word in.

  
  


“You’re grounded-- you know that, right, Anya?” His tone was light, but patronizing. Anya fumed, clenching her fists.

“Yeah-- but--” 

“But,  _ what _ Anya?” Yura tilted his head, his hands balling up the sleeves of his sweater into his fists. 

“But it’s  _ not fair _ that  _ you _ get to go out and I don’t!” Anya’s teeth grit. “You don’t get in trouble no matter what you do but  _ I  _ always get grounded!”

“Really? That’s your excuse?” Yura’s head dropped, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, chuckling dryly. “Do you want to know the truth?  _ I  _ get in trouble for the shit  _ you _ do.” 

“But mom still lets you do whatever you want!” 

“She lets you do whatever you want too!” Yura’s head snapped up, his face stretching as a flash of anger struck his face as he raised his voice. “What-- you get grounded  _ once _ and suddenly it’s the end of the fucking world? Grow fucking up Anya!”

Yura leaned back and let out a sigh, feeling his pockets and taking out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up quickly before turning back to Anya-- who only stared at the ground. He scoffed, flicking some ash away, his eyes drooping tiredly. 

“What? Are you going to start crying just cause someone’s telling you the truth for once?”

Anya’s head ducked down further as her shoulders shook. Ivan and Katya’s eyes met, their eyebrows furrowed down, Dmitry feeling a thick discomfort in the air. Yura shook his head, taking a long drag and letting out an equally long smoke-filled sigh.

“This is pointless. Get your shit together and face the facts.” He mumbled before slinking away to the backyard to help Arthur and Tsar retrieve their stuff.

Anya felt her face, warm and hot, burn in embarrassment and anger. She held her sleeves to her face, resisting the urge to sniffle, before turning around and spitting in Yura’s direction. Ivan rested a hand on Anya’s shoulder, patting it.

“Hey Anya…” Ivan started softly, before Katya interrupted. 

“Are you okay?” Katya took Anya’s hands in her own, concern in her eyes despite her smile. Anya glared, snatching her hands away with a mumble.

“S’okay.” Anya let out a sigh, before straightening her back and throwing her hair over her shoulder, chest puffed out. “Yura doesn’t know what he’s talking about. ‘Get your shit together’ my ass! He’s such a hypocrite.” 

Katya and Ivan let out a couple of quiet laughs-- Ivan rubbing the back of his neck.

“If you’re making jokes like that, then I guess you're okay.” Ivan shrugged, smiling.

“I’m not joking though?” Anya tilted her head, squinting.

Ivan brushed past Anya, opening up the trunk door.

“Hey, jump in the back. We’ll give you a ride back without having you sneak around.”

Anya sat on the trunk floor, closing the door partially and crossing her arms over the top of the trunk door and laying her head down on top. She looked up at Katya and Dmitry, who lingered by.

“Hey, how  _ did _ you guys get out here anyways?” 

“We hitchhiked.” Katya answered easily, leaning back.

“Hitchhiking?” Anya’s face twisted in confusion. “I thought that only happened in movies…”

“They said they would take us back home, but after calling the cops here…” Dmitry looked away, sighing. “We lost our ride home.”

“Don’t worry, we can take ya’ home.” Anya moved back as Ivan opened the door, ushering Dmitry and Katya inside. They climbed in, sitting across from Anya.

In the distance, the three could see Arthur walking down from the back yard, dropping some stuff off in the trunk-- Katya, Anya, and Dmitry helping push the heavier equipment deeper into the trunk. Arthur stood, staring at the three, and then turned to Ivan.

“There are two more.” Arthur stared at Ivan with a stern glare, and Ivan laughed.

“You can handle dropping a couple kids off on the way back to Yura’s.”

Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, grumbling to himself.

“You’re paying for the gas.”

“Yessir!”


End file.
